A Baptist Town
by Foxissofoxy
Summary: There's a new sheriff in town who knows exactly how to handle their growing Savior problem. (AU in Zombie world) Random cast of Walking Dead character throughout. Main focus: Rick and Michonne. A slow burn. (possible OOC)
1. Right Out The Gate

"_You know it's a real salvation when Baptists use cold water."_  
―** Jared Brock, A Year of Living Prayerfully: How a Curious Traveler Met the Pope, Walked on Coals, Danced with Rabbis, and Revived His Prayer Life**

* * *

Right out of the gate.

Prison gates.

It was the longest car ride. Mostly in silence. Soon the silence was too heavy, and for a brief period there was music turned up loud enough to almost forget the difference of being caged by either a sentencing or a marital obligation. And with no real direction, until a series of events took place, did a clear path seem to line up for them.

"I love that song, you know? I love everything by Chris Stapleton. He has this really bluesy way, you know?" Tara spoke into the rear-view mirror from the driver seat.

"What do you know about the blues?" Lori mocked heartily seated directly behind her.

"Okay, bluesy country."

"Country music ain't been the same for a long while." Lori sighed.

Lori was relieved Rick's sister Tara was trying to break the ice. The silence was practically unbearable in the blue Honda sedan. Her husband Rick was nearly mute since his unexpected release from Prison early that morning with their 17-year-old son Carl trailing behind him.

Eight hours later, she wasn't sure what she expected from the man she hadn't visited in the last 5 months of his surprising five-year bid in the penitentiary and only then did she realize how delusional she had been to think he would overlook the fact that she was five months pregnant with another man's baby.

"I want to stop at that Honky Tonk."

"Why?" Tara asked. She was surprised by her brother's request. She glanced again in the rear-view mirror hoping to read something from his face that his tone didn't relay in his simple request to finally stop the solar powered vehicle. Rick wanted out.

"I need a drink."

Within seconds, Tara had Lori's sedan parked closest to the office of the Inn instead of the bar. From the badly faded sign, Tara was able to make out it was an establishment that included an Inn to go with the Honky Tonk.

She nudged Carl who rode in the front seat to wake up.

* * *

A/N: My apologies for the delay. This story was written while suffering through major insomnia in 2017. I hesitate to post this because this has to be multi-chapter. Almost similar to the length of All I Need. Totally not the same story but this Monster keeps going and going.

If anyone is new to my style of writing you may find this challenging based on the fluctuating perspectives, voice etc...think of it as puzzle pieces or screenshots of certain moments of time. Most of the Chapters are super short. There will be time jumps and recall of incidents from the past.

P.S. I thank everyone who attempt to read this and any of my other stories. Thank you!


	2. The Honky Tonk Bar and Inn

_"Now what happens?" asked the man in black. _  
_"We face each other as God intended," Fezzik said. "No tricks, no weapons, skill against skill alone."_  
_"You mean you'll put down your rock and I'll put down my sword and we'll try to kill each other like civilized people, is that it?" _  
**― William Goldman, ****The Princess Bride **

* * *

I wasn't sure if I had anyone I could trust.

I knew I couldn't trust my wife.

Walking inside of the Honky Tonk I knew instantly there was someone I could put my faith in. I had told him where the money was stashed and seeing him on the other side of the bar with his back turned, I knew exactly where it was all spent. His name is Tyrese. Tyrese Mitchel. Number 927354. He followed my plan down to the last detail.

I took a chance on him when we were both on the inside of cell block 8. He recognized me instantly the moment I sat at the bar. The random patron would have never suspected.

"What can I get for you, Partner."

"A shot of whiskey."

"Coming right up?"

"You from around here?" Tyrese asked me.

I eyed him and the other fella who was nursing some misery and back at Tyrese who had a small shot glass and the bottle open ready to pour.

"No."

"Plan on staying?" Tyrese eyed quickly the lone stranger to gauge if he was listening and then back at me. I was cued in with how much intel would or could be shared.

"No."

"Don't blame, you. Not much to do. The town is about another 5 miles of nothing but people that wouldn't come to a place like this. Only outsiders passing through. A few nuisances now have their foot at my neck. Other than that, up the road, you'll find a small town. Don't drive too fast or you will be out of Georgia and into the Badlands, you will miss it."

"Really?"

"Really."

Tyrese's description was a thinly veiled complaint since he's a black man and originally from Chicago. Tyrese had gotten out a year before I did. My set up became OUR opportunity to be from all outward appearances, law-abiding citizens.

"This is the kind of place that gets their excitement about a new sheriff coming to town. Expecting him any day. Makes it hard to do the right thing without one."

Another person arrived from the sound of the entrance. I watched the look on Tyrese's face. I read what I needed to know without once turning around. The place was empty enough, practically vacant but the empty bar stool next to me was where this guy decides was the best place to sit.

He ordered a beer.

"Coming right up!"

"Come here often?"

I didn't respond to the question directed at me by the stranger who inquired.

"Come here often?" He asked again as if I hadn't heard him the first time.

I directed my response to Tyrese after he had placed the beer in front of the man who was similarly built as I including his features.

"Another shot and make it quick."

"Well, I've never been to this neck of the woods and from what's been told to me-this is the friendliest place in all of Georgia."

"Not much else." Tyrese replied.

Tyrese had stepped in with a response which kept the man from asking me anything more. The urge to knock his lights out slowly dulled by the alcohol I drank. By the time I was on my 4th shot, there were six dead men and it included one who was going to be the town's new Sheriff.


	3. A Badge And A Pistol

"Prisons are full of sociopaths and psychopaths, but when questioned, the imprisoned sociopath will honestly admit that they will commit any number of crimes to help a friend.

_A friend will help you move; a true friend will help you move a body._

_A friend will bail you out of jail; a true friend will be sitting beside you._

Who wouldn't want to have a true friend? But they sound a lot like a sociopath."  
**― Tanya Thompson, Assuming Names: A Con Artist's Masquerade **

* * *

The sight of blood didn't bother me.

I was glad he asked me to help.

My dad became the Sheriff of a town full of religious fanatics. They treated my dad like members of a cult would their beloved leader who fights crime and is honest and trustworthy and never was convicted of murder. Only this town would believe my Dad was a real Sheriff. Only in this backward Baptist town.

After helping my Dad and Tyrese dispose of the bodies in the nearby woods was when a plan was hatched. Tyrese called on someone he knew that could be trusted to make some changes to the name and photo just in case someone goes snooping around. He said the guy's name was Eugene. My Dad wasn't sure, but he trusted Tyrese.

I wasn't sure how long my Dad could get away with it. But we all had to be on the same page including my mom. My Aunt Tara would do anything for my Dad, her big brother, and he didn't have to ask.

"Why didn't you let me help?"

"Can't have too many hands in this."

"So, what's next?"

My aunt Tara accepted my dad's choice in excluding her from helping us to get rid of the dead bodies.

"Once we get the go ahead, we are going to go into town. From what I've been told there will be housing, food, and medical facilities."

I followed my dad line of sight when he said his last sentence directly at Mom.

"All we need to do is act like one big happy family."

"But what exactly happened inside the Honky Tonk, Rick?"

"Things got out of hand is what happened. A situation that couldn't be handled any other way. A message was sent by what I had done tonight. Luckily, I will have a badge and pistol when trouble arrives."

"You can't just go killing, Rick. Outside the safe zones, you could get away with it, but here and places like this, will have you right back behind bars before you know it."

We all knew my dad still carried a vendetta. There was no way he was going to be swayed. I'm sure Mom knew that. If she had any hope, I squashed it. I didn't care if my mother thought I was still a sociopath.

"Dad is the new Sheriff. If there is any doubt then speak up now." I was prepared to take my own mother out if she stood between my dad and his plan. Silence was what I needed and got.

I continued, "Good. Besides, it should be fun saving a town from their growing Savior problem."


	4. My Souvenir

"The story goes that a public sinner was excommunicated and forbidden entry to the church. He took his woes to God. 'They won't let me in, Lord, because I am a sinner.'

'What are you complaining about?' said God. 'They won't let Me in either."  
―** Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel: Good News for the Bedraggled, Beat-Up, and Burnt Out **

* * *

All eyes were on us as we entered.

It continued until we sat down.

We found a seat on one of the last two rows in the back of the church. We had never gone to church before and this place was crowded toward the center onward.

There was this lady with short salt and pepper hair who came from the opposite end to ask me to take off my hat. I guess only then she realized where I needed to actually be. She wore a smile she thought was enough to convince me. It didn't.

"Excuse me, son, but how old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Well, guess what we have in store for you?" She began to explain.

_A church for kids?_ _Fuck out of here lady_.

It was what I wanted to say, but I didn't.

My Dad was on the opposite end with my Mom in-between us. My mom was enjoying the music from the choir with all the swaying she was doing, while my dad was trying to peer over to where I was, and he was none too pleased. I thought it was because of the little resistance I put up by following her out still wearing a dead man's hat. He had told me to take it off too.


	5. Carol Meets The New Sheriff

_"I believe that a woman who loses interest in her Bible has not been equipped to love it as she should. The God of the bible is too lovely to abandon for lesser pursuits." _  
**― Jen Wilkin **

* * *

"Hi, my name is Carol. I didn't mean to alarm you or anything." Carol was surprised at being accosted by the visitor once she reappeared inside the lobby.

"Well, you come and take my son without my expressed permission, I need to know what's going on?"

Rick realized he was squaring up to a mousy looking woman who wasn't affected by his stance. He gleaned something from her eyes to cause him to quickly understand the subtle nuance of his own character and to act accordingly. Once his demeanor changed he was given an explanation. Not once breaking eye contact.

"We have the adult church, and then we have the kids church. Sunday school for children. Pastor Gabriel has it that way. He wants the word, Gods word expressed un-disturbed and the only way to do that is to understand children will be children. 18 and up in the adult church, you see? We praise God that our Michonne can handle or I should simply say, she was blessed with the gift of patience for kids of all ages."

"Michonne?" Rick had formed the name as a question for his mind to be on the ready to store whatever was pertinent to know about each individual who would have any close interaction with his family unit.

"She is wonderful! Such a good Christian woman. An inspiration. A youthful spirit who devotes all of her spare time spreading the gospel. It helps to have been raised in the church. Her father was the preacher until he passed two years ago. Pastor Gabriel has taken over ever since then. Again, my name is Carol, what is yours?"

"Rick. Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes." Carol tested the name and found it unfamiliar in any local gossip. He was an outsider.

"I'm going to be your new Sheriff. Well, the town's new sheriff."

Carol noted the fidgetiness, though slight...There was a lie somewhere in just those few words, but she brushed it off to mull over some other time.

"Rick Grimes? Our new Sheriff. Now, that changes everything. We've been speculating when you were coming to town."

"Monday is my official swearing in."

"Our prayers have been answered. We have an acting Sheriff that is just overwhelmed and tends to look the other way. Spencer will be grateful to go back to deputy status. He had given testimony last Sunday about the challenges he faces in keeping our small town safe with limited help and resources."

Rick was taking all the information in. He found Carol quite useful without having to ask for details about a job where he actually held up the law instead of breaking it.

"Do you think you could lead me to where I could find my son, Carl?"

"Oh sure. Of course, follow me. Like I was saying..."

Carol led him down a set of stairs to a lower level where the classroom was located. She continued to address the situation about their town with no real Sheriff, "What happened to our Old Sheriff-the heart attack..." Carol paused on the last step in hopes to regain her composure.

Rick asked, "Are you okay?"

"Death shouldn't be a surprise to us, but it is every time it does happen, now that people stay dead. Seems like yesterday we were dealing with the Walking Dead. Now our problem is that evil Savior group."

"They are a big problem." Rick summed up the gist especially with having killed 4 of their men two days ago over rights to the Honky Tonk to pay up like some door to door tax collectors with access to free alcohol in the meantime.

"Yes. Take, take, take. This is our time to rebuild, but it's difficult when those Savior lay claim. They've been snatching up land with mostly bogus papers if not with intimidation. Not much left around here that they don't own. Gives us very little to live on. Makes us dependent on them more and more. It's just not fair."

She opened the door fully to see that Carl had not once left the spot she had left him.

Carol wasn't sure what was going on and wanted verbal verification on why their newest guest wasn't made to feel at home immediately.


	6. We Met Pleasure

"A woman's heart should be so hidden in God that a man has to seek Him just to find her."  
**― Max Lucado**

* * *

I hadn't moved from the partially closed door when the woman named Carol and my Dad entered. My Dad came in behind the woman with the plastered smile and a glint in her eye. I was still frozen in place. It was awkward. I felt uncomfortable standing in a room full of eyes staring at me.

"Oh, dear Carl, please find a seat. Everyone is friendly. Maggie?"

"Comin."

"This is Maggie, her sister at the drawing table is named Beth who's also 15 and is a great help with the younger ones."

A few kids were running about, learning to walk, or playpen bound. The noise level was expected from a large room that contained children. I noticed a guy about my age and quickly glanced away. I recognized him as he did me.

"Hello, I'm Maggie, and that's my sister Beth over there. Happy you and your Dad have come to join us."

"Hi." Her sister quickly chimed.

I thought they were both pretty attractive. I had my sights on Beth, though.

"Morning. My name is Rick, and this is my son, Carl."

"This is our new Sheriff, Maggie. Where in the world is Michonne?"

"Michonne said to give her a minute. She went to get an extra children's bible since he is without. Eugene claimed we were fresh out when it ain't so." Beth informed while bottle feeding a small baby.

"Michonne teaches the kids with questions and can read. We monitor the other children that are too young, and their attention span matches." Maggie smiled. "Happy to meet you, Sheriff." Maggie extended her hand surprised by my Dad's hesitation. I knew to follow his eyes.

From the large storage closet located in the corner of the room, the woman who I assumed was Michonne finally appeared. She was dressed like someone from an old black an white television show my grandpa loved to watch all the time. The only differences were she was a black woman with dreadlocks. Her dreadlocks were pulled back, how girls wear their hair or older ladies in an office, I guess. She seemed straight lace. I think that was the term I caught from one of the shows we would watch together.

* * *

_"Why do you watch all these old shows, grandpa?"_

_"It's the only way to escape what is shown these days. Can't stomach most of it."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Ever since, well I guess I am more aware that every show today has a lot of crime and a man cheating on his wife or the wife cheating on the husband. I rather watch some of these like Leave it To Beaver -am I sharing too much?"_

_"No, Grandpa," I assured him._

I use to like when my Grandpa would just talk to me. I wanted my Dad to do that. To talk more. It took prison time for him to see me and to hear me.

I was only 11 years old when Grandpa died from the fever. While my Dad was locked up, my mom called on Uncle Shane to save the day. There was a lot of things I didn't know how to piece together on my own. A long period it seemed like there wasn't any control over the outbreak. And then there was a semblance of a world still trying to be as if nothing ever happened.

* * *

"Two books in good condition for two new people that I am glad to have join us today. Come on Eugene and put that box down. I have two books. We don't need the whole box. Just two books."

"Do I get to tell them a story about God in the Shower?" The strangest guy wearing a mullet asked. Hearing his name caused me to look at my dad who eyes were fixed as if he was looking at something amazing.

"I will make sure we have time next Sunday. I need you to tell me the story first so I can deem it appropriate for our young people, if so, then and only then, you can share it."

"Michonne, this is Rick Grimes. Towns New Sheriff. He wanted to meet everyone. You too, Eugene."

The silence. It was weird. I was embarrassed more by this than standing amongst these random strange kids my age and younger.

"Do I have to stay?" I had asked a second before realizing something was happening.

"Um, Hi. I was just making-." His hand gesture was for me to hush, similar to give him a second. He sounded as if he lost his train of thought.

"My name is Pleasure to meet you, I mean-."

_What? S__he had to have meant a pleasure to meet you._

"Pleasure is all mine." My dad responded.

_Ughh. My Dad didn't just say what he just said! But he did. We were in church. Kids Church_.

"Really, Dad?"


	7. A Beautiful Pleasure

_"I told the priest_  
_my god is a black woman_  
_he poured holy water on me_  
_and scheduled me for an exorcism"_  
**― Ijeoma Umebinyuo, ****Questions for Ada **

* * *

Church.

Me sitting in a church.

A church that had me sitting next to Lori. The unimaginable has happened, and it was happening as we listened to the clap, clap, clap and the singing.

There was unpacking that still needed handling, but here we were sitting in a church full of people we did not know. A community that we were unfamiliar with yet we were in hopes of this place helping us with a fresh start. This was an opportunity to create a new chapter in our lives. An off the cuff rewrite. Everything we were or represented in Atlanta died there and had to remain in the past. Moving to Kings County was our way to begin again, a Clean Slate. And that went out the window.

I wiped the steam from the master bathroom mirror, and I didn't even recognize the man I was now. The new man. I was graying early. Stress can do it to a man. It had definitely done it to this man that stared right back at me.

Less than thirty minutes later I was freshly shaven had on my black suit and tie that was good enough to double as my funeral suit. I was pretty sure there were going to be a few deaths to celebrate. Today it was my Sunday Morning church attire until I could get a feel of how the other church members dressed.

Lori was dressed and ready. She came out of her bedroom she shared with my Sister, Tara who didn't care about any dress code. She was going to remain gender neutral. Carl was looking out the front window, either observing or lost in some private thought of his when we all finally come trodding down the steps to the front of the house.

Carl didn't care about appearances and if he had he wouldn't have boldly wore that Dead mans hat, plaid shirt, jeans and old cowboy boots he found in the upstairs attic.

I didn't have the energy to battle him about it. If it kept him from being defiant, I was going to allow it. Our goal was to establish a routine and if it included going to church, so be it. I was ready to listen. I needed answers. Direction. Not from any man from the pulpit but the people in attendance.

Once we made it the church doors, I gladly nodded at a few people I had recognized from a chance meeting the day before, one of them was the town mechanic. I think he said his name was Daryl. He mumbled most of everything else as he spoke once he found out I was going to be the new town Sheriff.

He nodded.

Daryl was alone in the very last row and my sister Tara had plopped herself right down next to him. I was following behind Lori, who was led by a church usher named Aaron.

We weren't even seated for long when a woman named Carol came and whisked Carl out. It didn't bother Lori. It didn't bother her one bit. She didn't make a move to go and see where the woman was taking him. It was too late to ask her to add a concerned mother to her character profile. It was going to be a conversation. Instead of stewing, I was going to do it for both of us, even if it annoyed me.

Carol led me to Carl.

Inside I found my son still standing near the door. I knew he was going to bolt if push came to shove if he didn't hurt someone.

I glanced around the room. I had noticed the young brunette and immediately felt the name Michonne to be ill-fitted for her, but she was quickly introduced as Maggie and then her sister, Beth.

The room appeared highly organized, and everything was in any parent's visual view except the storage closet where she appeared out from along with a man that seem to have possible mental issues based on the mullet and his extreme physical closeness to the woman named Michonne. She looked like a Michonne. I would have never imagined what type of woman would come with such a name but to see her, it fit.

"Two books in good condition and they are for two new people that I am happy to have joined with us today. Come on Eugene and put that box down. I have two books. We don't need the whole box. Just two books."

"Do I get to tell them a story about God taking a Shower?" The man with the mullet asked.

"I will make sure we have time next Sunday. I need you to tell me the story first so I can deem it appropriate for our young people. And then, only then, may you tell it."

"Michonne, this is Rick Grimes. Our Towns New Sheriff. He wanted to meet everyone."

The silence. I never met this woman in my life but she was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on, and it was startling. It felt like I had met her at some point but knowing damn well, I would remember if it was true.

She had this natural glow.

I would learn later, her glow is called anointing. It was like being in the presence of an angel with the most incredible brown shade of skin.

"Um, Hi. I was just making sure-." I barely heard Carl when he spoke. I had lost my train of thought and my sense and I was fighting to get it back.

"My name is Pleasure to meet you, I mean-."

"Pleasure is all mine." I smiled.

I want to believe she was experiencing the same thing. If not my boldness wasn't lost on anyone standing there including my son Carl.

"Dad?"


	8. Sending A Prayer Thought

_"I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you."_  
**― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince**

* * *

I had two new students.

I couldn't get Eugene to do as told without assisting him.

There were additional Children's Bibles located exactly where I told him to look. Sometimes I wonder about Eugene and what exactly he suffered from when it mattered in the old world. I have yet to get a straight answer from him. In less than two minutes we were out of the storage closet.

"Two books in good condition for two new people that I am happy to have join with us today. Come on Eugene and put that box down. I have_ two_ books. We don't need the whole box. Just two books."

"Do I get to tell them a story about God in the Shower?"

I was appreciative he asked permission first, but the phrasing of the subject caused a slight concern.

"I will make sure we have-"

From that moment everything was an instant blur. I had absolutely no recall regarding my response to Eugene. This new visitor was more than a man in a suit. He was a very attractive man wearing an outdated suit as I was wearing a dress of a similar time period when the world could only entertain the idea of a civilization such as ours today.

"Michonne, this is Rick Grimes. Our town's New Sheriff. He wanted to meet everyone." Carol did our introduction from just a few feet away.

I never met this man in my life but he was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on, and it was startling and scary. He took my breath away. He had beautiful blue eyes. He gave off an air of a man with authority. A leader. A man with a purpose but it could have been the suit. I sent a quick prayer thought to God in hopes that this man was in search of a wife.

"Do I have to stay in here?" Our newest member asked.

"Um, Hi. I was just making sure-."

"My name is Pleasure to meet you, I mean-."

If I could have died, I would have right then and there. This was some form of witchery that has never happened to me. I had to shake whatever spell was being cast my way.

_My name is Michonne Benton. __I am the Sunday School Teacher here at Hope Tabernacle. Nice meeting you. _

I haven't a clue to why I didn't say it.

"Pleasure is all mine." He smiled, blushing.

I think he was experiencing the same thing and his boldness wasn't lost on his son or me in the way he enunciated his words, placing emphasis on _all mine._

"Dad?"

"Sometimes we say things that really have some form of Christian meaning and intent." Carol spoke directly to Carl who was our newest student.

I was thankful for Carol being able to help move the awkwardness out of sight and out mind.

"The Sheriff wanted an idea of who's teaching his son about the word of our God. I hope he can rest assured." She then glanced from Carl to Rick and then to me.

We were being held accountable, to learn, to accept, and to provide.


	9. Holy Ghost?

"Reason lost the battle, and all I could do was surrender and accept I was in love."  
―** Paulo Coelho, The Witch of Portobello**

* * *

My battle.

My Awareness.

I don't ever recall ever going to church nor reason to want to go. This was at Tyrese suggestion based on how this town worked and the best way to get information. A church. A bar.

My mind rested on Carl. If anyone could mess this up for us, it would be him whenever he is out of my sight for too long. It was the reason I had to keep him close in prison after he killed a guy over pancakes.

Lori wasn't seated where I had left her. She was at the front of the church in the arms of people who were placing their hands on her back, and her head. I sat down. My sister Tara left her spot next to Daryl to sit next to me.

"You are blocking my view, big brother."

Tara was amused, and I was confused.

"What's going on?"

"The hell if I know. But's it's fascinating to watch."

I look back at my new acquaintance who leaned forward to hear my question.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing but what they call the Holy Ghost!"

Whatever event Lori was experiencing, she wasn't the same afterward. The pastor was going on and on and soon I began to hear his words. Crystal clear.

"_Run Devil Run! Stand tall. Stand Strong. There will come a time in every man's life. Woman's life too where temptation will be found around the corner. Don't mean you necessarily looking for it. It's just right around the corner. You run right into, or it greets with the sweetest proposition. The worst temptation has you propositioning...that's the dangerous kind because...follow me now...it means you may have lost your mind...given in to the other side. You have to have your eyes open. Your heart filled with the spirit of God to fight the demon that is willing to make you cheat your friend, your wife, your employer, your community. Temptation comes in all forms my friends, and here today we need to pray, stay prayed up to fight. Let's bow our heads and pray for the neighbor next to us that will come upon a struggle in his life once he leaves this church_..."

My battle was with Awareness.


	10. Which Is Worse?

_"Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed." _  
**― Alexander Pope**

* * *

He's married.

His wife accepted the laying on of hands.

I had watched the last of the children leave with their parents before stepping out into the warm weather with Maggie by my side. We normally walked home. A few people did. Most of us didn't have much use for a vehicle due to the proximity of things and a kind spirit who did own a truck would round us all up when supplies were delivered.

It was, of course, the first time catching a glimpse of our new Sheriff's wife when they drove past.

I considered her one lucky lady to have a handsome husband. And a son who was his carbon copy.

I planned to pray for them. Especially Carl. There was just something I couldn't put my finger on about the young man, and I could sense he was more than troubled. I felt it in my spirit. It was more than testing the waters. What I couldn't understand was his fascination with Eugene.

"He was handsome," Maggie commented.

"Yes, and married."

"The handsome ones are always taken." Maggie sighed.

"Yes." I agreed again.

A genuine disappointment.

"It's going to happen for us, Michonne." Maggie remained hopeful.

We both remained wishful with holding on to our own virginity until marriage or worse. Worse scenario would be stuck in a Birther Camp.

"It will. We have to keep the faith."

"I just about run out of faith."

"What happened?"

"I almost molested Glen."

"Say what?"

"You heard me."

"When?"

"Saturday. Yesterday. We were out back. At the farm. He came to visit. All gentlemanly. We went for a walk out down by the pasture. Daddy gave permission."

"Permission to go on a walk or to molest him?"

Maggie blushed, "You know what I mean."

"Can't say I do." I teased.

"Do you ever think about it?"

"About going on a walk with Glen or molest him?"

"I'm talking about sex. I'm talking about having sex with someone you don't know."

"I have other worries and concerns."

I tried to wave off the topic. The whole idea had plagued my thoughts for a while. I considered the odds, and I counted my blessings.

"I pray every single night, and I thank God every morning I wake up, that I am home and not at some birther Camp because I was stolen away in the middle of the night."

"Well, we can't live in constant fear. We continue to take precautions and make sacrifices for the greater good. The bonus is we have a Sheriff."

"A sheriff appointed by no one other than Negan."

"I hope not. I would hate for our new Sheriff to be under the thumb of the worst human being of all time. It would be very disappointing."

"I still can't get over the fact that our Pastor Gabriel had petitioned that vile man to send word. He gave over responsibility and exposed us while we waited for someone to help keep our town safe."

"We will never be truly safe if we can't be self-sufficient by having our own means to bring in supplies. Until then we will remain at the mercy of the Saviors."


	11. Sunday School Story Time With Eugene

_"The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon." _  
**― Brandon Sanderson, The Way of Kings**

* * *

Carl came back the following Sunday, and this time he took off his hat when I asked him too.

"Yes. Time for Bible studies everyone, but first Eugene will tell us a story that will help us all understand that our God is everywhere."

"He is." Eugene nodded as he looked at each and every child seated who were old enough to read and ask questions.

Carl's father was standing in the doorway. I wasn't sure what for, but I had students to consider first. Strict instructions on where to sit and stay seated were paramount. Once I had a spare second to inquire if he needed assistance he was gone. I caught Carl looking at me with the oddest smirk. I silently questioned it, and his response was a shrug. I sent a quick thought prayer asking God for strength to resist temptation and to stop my beginning phase of coveting while the room was as quiet as a room could get with children that weren't old enough to read or ask questions would allow.

"I had a mirror just sitting there. The voice said, Eugene, it is going to fall. I had it propped up. I needed to make sure all suds was out of my hair was my reason for the mirror in the shower. Now, THAT voice was clear. Crystal clear to move the mirror a little more to the right but I didn't listen to THAT voice. I said, I just need two more seconds to rinse the suds from the sides. Two more seconds and BAM! The mirror falls and glass everywhere!"

Eugene had everyone jump including me. I was listening intently making sure it stayed appropriate.

Carl was the first to ask, "God talks to you?" He had the look of wide-eyed awe.

"All the time. This was the time I didn't listen to the consequence of inaction."

Ron, a boy about the same age as Carl, asked Eugene, "So God was in the shower with you?"

"God is everywhere. If I would have listened to THAT voice, I would still have that mirror. Sometimes it is a big booming voice, or a tiny voice, or a thought-no matter it is God trying to tell us to do the right thing, and sometimes we ignore it and BAM!" Eugene startled us all again.


	12. The Devil Walks In And Takes A Seat

_"Sometimes a deal with the devil is better than no deal at all." _  
**― Lawrence Hill, ****Someone Knows My Name **

* * *

"Lord have Mercy! Look a here. Look a here!"

Tyrese had just finished drying the last glass. He knew that voice from anywhere. This was one time Tyrese was glad his back wasn't turned. He had his sawed-off shot-gun ready. This impromptu meeting was bound to happen. He tossed the white drying towel to drape over his shoulder as he gave the nuisance with three of his men, flanking on either side and bringing up the rear his full attention.

"What a crowd. What a Goddamn crowd we have inside here today! Just the way I like it! I like when I can have a conversation with you to discuss somethings that have come to my attention."

Tyrese instantly gauged that if it came down to a shoot out, he was going to take the lead motherfucker out first. The loudmouth, motorcycle jacket all the time wearing in 90 -degree weather, never ever without his Lucille, Negan. It was a suicide mission he was willing to take if things were to go to hell. So he remained cautious, because behavior wise, Negan was unpredictable.

Negan scanned the empty bar. He was paying close attention to any new detail like fresh bullet holes or blood stains, but all he could discern was the freshly painted wall on the far end of the room. He took a seat at the bar directly in front of Tyrese.

"Are you going to offer me a drink or must I ask?"

"Whisky?"

"Damn straight."

"Comin up."

"You know a crazy thing happened."

"What's that?"

"Sent four of my men out to collect and they never came back. Did they ever stop by here?"

"Can't say they had and if they did, I am aware of the routine and I pay up." Tyrese placed a pistol next to Negan's drink. It was loaded.

A gun was better than money, with bullets it bought time and supplies for the bar and quite a bit for the town up the road. Michonne had given Tyrese a list to work from when making a deal with this particular devil.


	13. Mabel's Diner

_"The mature fruit of mystagogy is an awareness that one's life is being progressively transformed by the holy mysteries being celebrated. The aim of all Christian education, moreover, is to train the believer in an adult faith that can make him a "new creation", capable of bearing witness in his surroundings to the Christian hope that inspires him." _  
**― Pope Benedict XVI **

* * *

"Morning, Mabel."

I spoke as I took a seat on the swivel stool at the counter, reminiscent of the 1950's even though time and use had faded it's once vibrant color, it still served its purpose.

"Hello there, Sheriff! How are you?"

"Good."

"How has your first few days as Sheriff been so far?"

"No complaints."

"No complaints?"

Mabel's hand propped instantly on her hips. She didn't believe me until I garnered her meaning.

"Call it my acclimation period."

"Look like an ass whooping to me. Hope you got him behind bars."

Mabel placed a menu in front of me. She was expecting a response. There was no way I was going to tell Mabel the full truth about what happened on Negan's property where I tossed one of his men in the neighboring pig pen where he was ripped to shreds.

"He's in the pin, alright."

"How's that wife of yours?"

"Alright."

"The baby? How much longer?"

"Good. Four months."

It was the truth. Lori was quickly adapting to our new surroundings as was Carl who was looking forward to going to school regardless of what was coming out of his mouth about it to me.

"Good to see her go to the altar, and claim our Lord and faithful Savior. One day maybe the word will convince you to do the same. You want to keep your home evenly yoked."

I wasn't equipped for a response. There would have to be something more to move me, right now, the jury was out.

"How do you like your place? Comfortable?"

"Good," I nodded. "Steady hot water."

"What street they put you on?"

"Hilltop."

"The same street as our Sunday School Teacher, Heaven be. Now, let me be the first to tell you Miss Michonne has Bible Study every Tuesdays, and Thursdays at her home. Only on Wednesday..."

* * *

"What does that sign say?" Carl finally took off that hat trying to determine what was written on a small sign in front of a house across the street.

My wife Lori who has eyes like a hawk read, "You will find kisses and hugs here."

"This place is like a bad episode of the twilight zone."

There wasn't a response to what Tara had just said while we were all taking in our surroundings outside of our new home. A home that was more than we ever would have expected if we came here without a plan.

I hadn't realized Tara and Carl had gone inside. It was just Lori behind me.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

"Yeah. What was that at the church?"

"Out of everything...that is what you want to talk about?"

"Just wanted to comment about it. It was believable. I just wish you would have given me a heads up. They all had eyes on me as if I were next or something."

"Pastor wanted everyone to see the new Sheriff. It was the only reason he wanted you to come up. You and I both know where you stand on religion."

"Let's keep it that way."

"I'm your wife."

"Here, yes."

"What are you saying, Rick?"

"Those men I killed. I did it for you. I burned that camp down for you, Lori. All for what?"

It hurt like hell to see my wife pregnant. The thought of another man having his way with her was eating me up inside.

"What did you expect me to do? You weren't there. I had no one and nowhere to go."

"Where was Shane? I told you to find him."

"I did Rick. For a while I was with him and then there was a large pack. We were separated. I had no other choice after awhile. What with Terminus, I didn't know what or whom to trust inside the gates."

"So you go to a fucking birthing camp?"

"Would you rather me be ripped to pieces by walkers, Rick?"

"What I don't understand was why were you and Shane so far from the gates? Walkers are what keep us from the Badlands. What were you and Shane doing out that far?"

"Someone had raided Shane's stash of guns. He knew who took them and he was hellbent on getting them back."

"Where was Carl, when this happened?"

"What do you mean where was Carl?"

There was a lie somewhere. I wasn't ready for the honest truth no matter if it was coming from Lori or Carl. I had Carl's version. It was Lori's that wasn't matching up. In one long glance, I could tell Lori didn't have her story together. I was going to give her time to think of one.

"I want you to start from the beginning, Lori. Not that it will change things between us. I think the beginning is a good place to start. When I ask you to tell me. I need you to be ready to tell me exactly where was Carl and why was Carl no longer with you. In the meantime, I need to know what we are going to do with this car."

"Tara will take the car back."

"Good. Don't need it traced to us here."

"Tara took the GPS out long before we made it to the prison."

"What's the plan?"

"Tara is going to dump it."

"Where?"

"Close enough to the Birthing Camp."

* * *

"...Wednesdays she has a class here. Slightly larger group of adults here in this Diner. Spend about two hours right there in that corner."

"Good to know."

The last thing I wanted was to be around a group of people reading a bible, talking about scripture, or praying to an unfathomable God. One or two Sundays a month was all I can stomach if I could get away with it. One of the requirements to live in this particular community, everyone had to show up to church services.

"Mmhhm. Your spirit tells me my menu is more important than the good word."

"Well, it is the only _word_ my body has room for."

I was surprised by Mabel's laugh. I was at ease knowing she had a sense of humor.

"What will you have this morning, Sheriff?"

"Two scrambled eggs and French Toast."

"Coming up."

My eyes instantly traveled to the sound of the door opening to the Cafe based on the change in Mabel's facial expression. I was just as surprised to see her walk in with her Bible and a notebook.

"Boy do you look so pretty! I love when you do justice to how we use to wear clothes and be all conservative. Such a lovely sight!"

"Morning, Mabel!"

"Do you want your usual, Michonne?" Mabel asked.

"Scrambled eggs with French toast will suit me just fine."

"Coming up."

Mabel made her way to the kitchen to place our order.

There was something about how my whole body reacted when looking at her. Seeing her, my temperature rose. My heart. My breathing. She made me feel nervous.

"Morning, Sheriff Grimes."

"Morning, Michonne."

"Your face."

"You should see what happened to the other guy," I smirked.

I was surprised I didn't make her laugh or smile. She took a deep breath instead.

"I was surprised to see you and your family living across the street. I pray you are all settled?"

"We are. It's a nice house. Large."

"With a growing family, I am happy you got what you all will need."

"Hey, Michonne over here. Come and settle this debate once and for all."

The same man that escorted us in church, Aaron was seated at an adjoined table with a friendly size group. He was beckoning her from afar.

"Bible Study."

"Mabel told me all about it."

"We have room for one more."

My mouth did something that had my brain confused. I spoke.

"I have to see how I can fit it in."

"I pray you can."

"Okay."

"Soon."

"I would like that."

"I would too. I would really like that. A lot."

"Really?"

"Yes. Sounds like you feel the same way. I mean I hope you will feel, what I feel about what we are discussing."

"What exactly are we discussing?"

"Is it happening again?"

"Yes, pleasure." I teased. I was glad to feel like I had the upper hand when I was the one feeling like putty in her presence. She gifted me with one of the warmest smile.

"We are talking about Bible Study."

"We are." I nodded.

"When should I expect you?"

"How about next Tuesday?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"You know where I live, right?"

"A place where I would find _Hugs and Kisses_?"

"Bible Study." She said as a reminder.

I watched her hurry away to her group. Even though she seemed genuine in her approach, it still came off slightly strange between us.

Practiced.

Rehearsed.

* * *

A/N: I have run out of time will try to post the next chapter tomorrow.


	14. Negan At The Bar

"Man will always dispute who god is."  
**― Anthony T. Hincks**

* * *

Negan scanned the list. The length of time it took for him to read over it was less than 3 seconds before he slid it in his back pocket of his baggy jeans. Tyrese waited. He knew what would be a cause for concern and he was prepared to counter any opposition.

"I'm not a bad guy. I like to think I am fair. Fair to a fault." Negan began to take one bullet out at a time after spinning the chamber suddenly aiming at Tyrese who didn't flinch.

Pow!

"Can't scare good, ole T. Come to town with all that wasted money. Bought this here place with those dollars. Town folks don't dare be seen going out of any place other than church and the confines of their home. Honestly, I don't blame you one bit. Those religious fanatics and all their praying- Where's that God of theirs?"

Negan paused long enough to toss back his drink, waving off a refill with the slight movement with his hand as he continued, expecting no response to his question.

"Instead, they are calling on me to bless them with seeds to grow more crop, my cows to supply meat once a month, and an organ. Out of all instruments why the fuck the Sunday School teacher needs a God Damn Organ? Aren't they Baptist or are they LDS?"

Tyrese was still wary by Negan suddenly taking leave of his stool, surveying the surroundings as if the fresh paint would tell him all he needed to know.

"Asking a lot from only _one_ Goddamn gun."

The sound of hooves near the front door had all eyes and ears trained on who would dare to be so bold. One of Negan's men, who was the closest to a window informed, "Deputy Morgan!"

* * *

A/N: My apologies in this delay. OMG. Here goes.


	15. Spencer Hands Over The Reins

_"In this world of ours, the sparrow must live like a hawk if he is to fly at all." _  
**― Hayao Miyazaki **

* * *

He wasn't what I expected.

I had expected taller. Taller and muscular.

I stood three to four inches taller than this new Sheriff, and his body was just as lean as mine. I had assumed he was appointed by the Governor who was in the pocket of Negan or vice versa. I could tell right off he was bringing his own brand of justice because he took a gun from our department safe and he carried an extra round of bullets.

I tried to explain to him that we were a god-fearing town and we use a gun as a last resort.

"What sense does it make if the gun is locked up in here, and I am way out there in need of this gun?"

Just in the way he was looking at me, waiting for an answer, I realized it was probably for the best to step aside since I was stepping down from the temporary appointment anyhow.

He didn't ask very many questions after that. He mostly listened to what I had to say about some of the people who lived in the town and the very few who were brave to remain on the outskirts. One being Herschel and the other being Mabel. They were the last two who owned a significant amount of land and were able to hold Negan at bay. They were able to do it longer than some citizens who were pushed into town that thrived on a strong belief in the Bible and a great source of stored solar energy due to Eugene.

"Who own all these horses?" Our new Sheriff had finally asked.

"Negan does, Sheriff. This lot here you are to choose from. You do know how to ride?"

It was a question I had asked as a precaution. He was appointed by the city council of the New World Order and most of them had use of solar vehicles as he had when he arrived to town. I was prepared to offer him lessons if he needed to learn.

"Yeah."

Out of all the horses he chose one who kept her distance from the other horses and humans in general. I was surprised by this and thought I should warn him about the one he had his eyes on.

"Sheriff, that one is-."

I stopped short at the sight of his hand going up, signaling me for the third time that day to stop talking. The Sheriff whistled a tune that didn't bother any of the other animals just the one he was making a move on. It was an amazing sight. Morgan saw for himself along with two of Negan's stable men.

It was two months later that I got some _if not_ most of the story about him and that particular horse.

During a random encounter Sheriff Grimes recognized the thief from his past that actually stole this horse from him. It was one of Negan's men near the Old Honky Tonk Bar and Inn. I was with him that day when we were ambushed after he took it upon himself to kill the horse thief and two of Negan's men who were in search of missing men from a month earlier. I was there when he killed those men. There was nothing I could do about it. It was like within seconds there were bodies on the ground and guns drawn. I had my hands up. So did Morgan. Not our Sheriff.


	16. Negan At The Station

"Writing a story or a novel is one way of discovering sequence in experience, of stumbling upon cause and effect in the happenings of a writer's own life. This has been the case with me. Connections slowly emerge. Like distant landmarks you are approaching, cause and effect begin to align themselves, draw closer together. Experiences too indefinite of outline in themselves to be recognized for themselves connect and are identified as a larger shape. And suddenly a light is thrown back, as when your train makes a curve, showing that there has been a mountain of meaning rising behind you on the way you've come, is rising there still, proven now through retrospect. Writing fiction has developed in me an abiding respect for the unknown in a human lifetime and a sense of where to look for the threads, how to follow, how to connect, find in the thick of the tangle what clear line persists. The strands are all there: to the memory nothing is ever lost."  
**― Eudora Welty, On Writing **

* * *

Rick walked in. He had a loaded gun in his holster. His horse was saddled and ready. All he needed was for Spencer to stop talking so he could think about his plan of action.

Spencer's enthusiasm was dialed down when he entered the office first after relinquishing the reins of responsibility once his sight fell upon their town's biggest concern, Negan sitting in a chair. There was never a remedy or clear way to handle the amount of control Negan had in their small town. Something had to be done when it came to the monopoly designed by a man who had put an unreasonable strain on the towns inability to meet his supply and demand.

"_Who_ the_ fuck_ are _you_?" Negan asked when he noticed he did not recognize the man with a badge and gun accompanied by Spencer.

"I'm the new Sheriff."

"Where the fuck was I when this happened?"

Negan jumped up from the uncomfortable metal seat where he awaited his legal means before taking things into his own hands if he didn't get a satisfactory resolution to his shortage of able bodied men. At the time Negan was down five men too many. Even though they were five men with indirect reporting it mattered to him that they were never heard of or seen from again. He was seeking civilized means to finding the answers to where they were or who was responsible for their untimely demise.

"Why would you be involved?"

Negan hesitated in his response. He secretly wondered if the Governor who sat on the council was trying to sabotage his operation as the largest cattle rancher in the new world. His horse inventory was respectable. Negans, alcohol refinery skills were unmatched.

Negan and the Governor hadn't been seeing eye to eye lately, and his suspicions were warranted with just how this new Sheriff boldly asked him a question without a formal introduction.

Noticing the Sheriff's bruised face and his twitchy hand near the holster of his gun, Negan felt bringing Lucille to life inside the small no longer empty precinct would be best suited for another day.

"Where're my manners," Negan wiped his hand on his denim pants before extending it out towards the town's new sheriff. "My name is Negan. You are?"

"This town's new Sheriff. Sheriff Grimes."


	17. Michonne's Picnic

_"I have often had a retrospective vision where everything in my past life seems to fall with significance into logical sequence." _  
**― Ansel Adams **

* * *

I became more distracted. I couldn't form a coherent sentence when in the sheriff's presence. I began to pray harder. I had practiced. I had even rehearsed. I was determined to show him he had no effect on me.

The moment I made the decision to stop lusting, my temptation wearing a badge comes galloping up towards my small picnic I had planned just for Eugene, Maggie, and her sister Beth. Only then did I get a real understanding of Christ struggle with sin. Try as I might, I could not look away from this sheriff. He was disturbingly handsome.

Beth spoke first.

"Afternoon, Sheriff Grimes."

"Afternoon."

I was glad his attention was on Beth even though brief it was enough time to remind myself to breathe and shake myself from being visibly captivated.

Maggie stood up from the blanket we were all sharing right in the middle of the town square. Eugene scrambled to his feet, his sandwich tipped more onto the sheet from his plate when he did. I remained seated with no appetite in sight.

"Wanted you to know we are glad to have you protect our town." Maggie words echoed the sentiments of everyone.

"Glad to be to be welcomed and appreciated for the type of justice I believe in."

"You are a natural on that there horse, sir. Heard you are damn good with a gun too. Not just your fist." Eugene admiration was genuine.

Eugene's knowledge actually caused a slight reaction. I was able to sense a bit of brazen pride from our newest community member who's horse respected the authority by how her head remained high, though the lead was slack.

"Every bullet counts."

"Good to hear." Eugene nodded in agreement. "Not positive if everyone agrees. Can't be wasteful."

"I'll keep it in mind. Michonne?"

I felt frozen by his verbal acknowledgment. There was some form of magic happening. He spoke my name, and upon hearing him do so, the everyday sounds instantly ceased around me. The birds stopped chirping, even the random buzzing from Honey Bees dialed their buzz music down to silent. I could no longer hear the town around me. I was absolutely mesmerized.

"Sheriff?"

"Sunday School Teacher, I would like to come by tonight."

"What time tonight?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you tell me."

"Well, I have Bible Study tonight. Maybe-"

"Isn't that what he's talking about, what time is Bible Study?" Eugene looked from the Sheriff to me.

It was apparent that I had lost my mind and Eugene was going to make it obvious if I didn't get myself together.

"Bible study," I said.

"Has it been canceled?" Our Sheriff had asked me directly.

His voice was all I could hear in competition with my racing heart. It wasn't canceled. It never was in all the time I had hosted the small congregation.

"Bible Study," I repeated. I had no idea how to get the sound of disappointment out of my voice.

"Yeah. Bible Study." He said with a slight upturn on the corner of his lips.

"6:30pm."

It was only at that moment I was able to focus on a blade of grass next to me after seeing a watchful Morgan appear just a few feet away. He too was mounted on a horse, wearing an urgent look seen by the sheriff who still took his time in departing.

"Alright. I'll be there. Do I need to bring anything?"

"A bible and a sweet tooth. Miss Michonne knows how to make the best chocolate brownies for miles around." Maggie boasted on my behalf.

"I haven't had a chocolate brownie described as the best. I am certainly looking forward to it."

"Sheriff, you are being requested." Morgan words caused the Sheriff to take note. One nod and he was galloping alongside his deputy.


	18. Ready For Bible Study

_"We pass through the present with our eyes blindfolded. We are permitted merely to sense and guess at what we are actually experiencing. Only later when the cloth is untied can we glance at the past and find out what we have experienced and what meaning it has." _  
**― Milan Kundera, Laughable Loves **

* * *

"I'm telling you Dad! He's the guy in the mirror."

"Yeah?"

"Well, the voice. I called him on it. I followed him. He told me to fuck off. Said that I had no idea what I was talking about. It was because of the story he told about God being in the shower. It was that voice. His voice he used when telling it about the mirror."

My Dad nodded. I wasn't sure if his verbal cue was about what I was saying or the voices in his head. I waited for him to speak. When he finally spoke, I then knew he was considering the information, storing it for later, maybe find something to add to it one day if he so happened on some facts. Hardcore facts.

"I want you to stay away from him. We need to keep him as an ally. Don't need you taunting him. Keep your distance. He is someone we need."

My Dad was busy sorting through a few things he had hauled down from the attic. Mostly clothes he had found to wear for when he wasn't playing Sheriff. I sat on the foot of his bed as he stood there looking at me, waiting for a response.

"What do you think?" He had finally asked.

"About?"

"The fit. Do I look, alright?"

"To go across the street, yeah. I guess."

I watched my Dad walk over to his bedroom window. I didn't realize any connection or why I should care.

"People are starting to arrive." He commented.

"Is this part of the plan?" I had asked.

"What?"

"To look believable."

"What do you mean?"

"One thing to look, another to act. Mom's gone off the deep end. Not sure if it is all an act or not. Now you. All this extra. Thought Sunday only. What gives?"

"Hoping to gain some information. Gain people confidence. Fit in a bit."

I was confused about the lengths they were going about it. The fit in a bit seemed more like a lot. A whole lot.

"You can't do that over backgammon or checkers?"

"What difference does it make?"

"No difference unless all this effort has something to do with that Sunday School teacher."

"Just a pair of jeans. A buttoned-up shirt."

"Clean boots and a new bible."

"Plan to go and check on Tyrese afterward. Down a few drinks while I am there."

"I would think you would want to do that before 'tending bible study."

"Depends on how this first time goes, I may have to do in that order next time, son."

"Yeah."

It had everything to do with that Sunday School Teacher.


	19. Rick Checks In With Tyrese

_"It is an infantile superstition of the human spirit that virginity would be thought a virtue and not the barrier that separates ignorance from knowledge." _  
**― Voltaire **

* * *

I took a ride out to the Honky Tonk to check in with Tyrese. It had been a few days and the frustration of pretending to be happily married and desiring another was more than I could handle sober. I had to fight the need to come clean with the woman across the street. I needed to stay focused on the plan that was laid out for me and my family.

I craved like a madman what her sign advertised, Hugs and Kisses. I had no desire to get it from Lori who was more than willing if I made any slight move in that direction. I wanted it from one place and twice I had gone to that damn bible study and got nothing. Nothing. I hadn't been with any other woman since before prison nor after.

Stepping inside there was music coming from the juke box and a woman I had encounter a day or two ago swaying all alone inside the nearly empty establishment. I took a seat at the bar after being greeted by Tyrese who was ready to serve the only other thing I needed outside of a hug and a kiss, whiskey.

"Glad to see you are still standing."

"Same." I said back to him after tossing back a shot.

"Everything good?"

"As can get."

"How's the town taking to you?"

"Strange to be admired."

"After a while, you'll become accustomed."

"Carl seems to be alright."

"The best thing is to try to keep passing him off as 15 until it isn't believable. I know you don't want him off to those work camps. Not while you are breathing."

"Yep."

"Not much else."

"He will go to school. He can read. Math is what he needs work on. He has one year to catch up is all. Hoping this gig last where I can afford him a better future."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"What about your wife?"

"Got up in church and did the whole saved act. She's been going to church faithfully. And I'm not talking about on Sundays."

"Appearance means everything."

"She's becoming reluctant in telling me things. Things I need to know. No matter how I phrase my question, the answer I get doesn't sit well. Pieces missing. I had to hold her down and dig it out."

"If anyone has answers, it's going to be Eugene."

"What he say?"

"Said if you hadn't, he would have."

"What is he going to do with it?"

"He destroyed it. Now he thinks he understands why you've been sniffing around his woman pretty steady."

"His woman? Who's his woman?"

"Listen. Eugene said the birthing camps not only have GPS on those cars like the new government does, but once a female is impregnated, she has one inserted in her wrist. Free to go as she please. Access to things because of it. Like the car, for instance. Every movement. Location. They will come for that baby. And for their trouble a virgin of their choosing."

"I don't give a damn about them coming for that fucking baby. I would gladly deliver it to them at the gate."

"You didn't hear me. They're going to want the baby. They will also demand a virgin, especially if your wife doesn't plan to go back with them. They have a sniffer named Jadys. She's been as far up this way. Snatched up, Rosita some months back."

Tyrese paused, seeing the effects of his words as it began to register to his friend what was on the horizon. "How are you handling things otherwise? Did she explain why she would go back to a birthing camp?"

"Safer. She had no choice."

"People need what is familiar with."

"I would say so."

"She branded?"

"On her back. My sister Tara helps her keep it covered. Carl' too."

"Has she told you anything about how your son ended up where he was?"

"Interesting enough its the part she skips. Asked her a direct question about it and she goes mute. What I do know is her story and Carl's story ain't lining up."

"Where's the truth?"

"Somewhere between the two. Maybe with the man that stood between them. I won't know until I find Shane."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Tara is taking the car back. The message will be loud and clear."

"Code word?"

"Yes."

"Easy enough. This Shane must be a positive thinker."

"Proof positive. Think the wrong way, he will be headed down the wrong path."

Tyrese went to serve someone else. I waited for him to come back while I watched Jessie continue to dance. Her attention was on me and with the 4th shot down my throat, I still wasn't swayed. Especially knowing that my son Carl had already found himself in her bed.

"When's the last time you been with a woman? Assuming you and-."

"You assume, right," I responded. I was caught off guard by Tyrese's directness.

"There are a few who are discreet. If you are wondering." Tyrese tipped his in the direction of Jessie.

"Have other things on my mind."

"Five years is a long time. Nothing wrong in exerting pent up energy another way."

"As the town Sheriff, I plan to continue to do what I have been doing."

"Heard you've been going to bible study."

"I have."

"How far you think you going to get with the Sunday School teacher?"

"What?"

"Just be careful is all I am saying."

"Careful?"

"If it's noticeable to Eugene, then imagine the talk going through the town." Tyrese reminded.

"I find her to be very nice. She's always nice. Pleasant."

"She's a virgin."

"Bullshit."

"She is."

"Bullshit."

"Wasting your time with Michonne unless you are turning over a new leaf and really are seeking guidance with the bible. Anything else, you will have to marry her first."

"How do you know Michonne's a virgin?"

"She is whether you want to believe it or not."

"How old is she?"

"I'm guessing around her late twenties, early thirties. Old fashion. Bible talk. When she's not talking about religion, she is strictly about organizing, scavenging, or finding ways to protect our land from being confiscated."

"Doesn't sound like you described a virgin."

"I'm describing Michonne. She is good with a knife. Enough practice, she could be good with a gun."

"Got Spencer helping some of the citizens who want to know how to shoot on Fridays. Told him to tell me who's the best."

"Will be a short list. Most folks around here would rather hold tight to their bibles. And they will swear it was a prayer that stopped the dead from walking."

"I suppose they haven't gone over the wall."

"No reason for them to when they've been conditioned to believe anything on the outside is the Badlands. Amazing how the power of the Bible can influence decisions faster than a bullet."

"Michonne's a virgin?" It was the most fascinating news. Unbelievable.

"Eugene helped you get as far as you have. Don't mess it up by going around Michonne."

"Where the hell is this coming from?" I knew a threat when I heard one.

"Eugene. Michonne is his woman."

Whatever expression I had on my face had caused Tyrese to chuckle.

"Does she know this?" I just couldn't remove the look of disbelief from my face.

"She doesn't say anything against it."

"She's Eugene's?"

"He's been staking his claim."

"I'll make sure I back off." I realized I had given myself away. I could easily blame it on the whiskey relaxing my brain and tongue.

"It's true?"

"She's nice."

I had shrugged unable to control a slow-growing grin.

"Nice, is all you got?"

"All I will admit."

I knew if I had said more, it would remain between us. I trusted Tyrese. There was just no way I was going to openly objectify the Sunday School Teacher. Not with anyone. It was damn near difficult for me to describe what I was feeling or how to put into words how this particular woman made me want to be a better version of myself. Walk her home. Sit with her. Be with her. To me she represented. Michonne's everything I wanted in a woman.

I had to change the subject.

"Met Negan."

"It was a matter of time."

"Want me to go asking around about his men."

"What you tell him?"

"We are short, staffed."

"He will have his hounds out soon. Sniffing."

"What you do with the bodies?"

"Dug them back up. Loaded them on the wagon. Took them on over to the pit. Daryl took care of it."

"Daryl?"

"I had what he wanted."

"What's that?"

"A crossbow."


	20. He Wanted What Was On My Sign

_"Hugs usually mean more than just a hug."_  
**― Becca Ann, Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend **

* * *

There had to have been divine intervention.

Weirdly, I didn't recall I had treated him any differently when and after he had arrived the second time for bible study.

I was hesitant in opening my door upon seeing him standing on my doorstep. I had to have a one-sided conversation with God.

_This must be a test. If not, please give me your strength. Please, Lord, I am pleading for you to tell me, convince me, that you did not send me someone's husband. Are you testing me? If you are, please have mercy if i should happen to fail._

I swung open my front door. Two things were apparent, the slight smell of alcohol, and how drunk he made me feel every single time we were face to face.

"Are you okay, Sheriff?"

"Sunday School Teacher, I am out of uniform. My name is Rick. Just Rick."

I had only realized then that he would usually refer to me by my first name, but once I called him Sheriff at any point, I became Sunday School Teacher.

"Michonne, I would like to have a talk with you."

"About?"

"You and me."

"What about?"

"Proper expectations."

"When has anything ever been improper, Sher-Rick?"

"Well, I feel left out. Seems to me everyone who comes through your door gets some of either or."

His eyes went from my lips to either my arm or chest. I wasn't sure, but I was prepared to slap him for suggesting anything vulgar.

He caught my wrist with lightning speed.

"Do you have any idea of what I am capable of?"

"I am not that type of woman."

"I am beginning to see that more and more."

"Are you drunk?"

"I don't get drunk."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes. But I need to ask you a question."

"Question?"

"It's been gnawing at me. Practically driving me crazy, just about. The little voice. God's voice led me right here to get it directly from you."

_Of course!_

"Would you like me to grab my bible?" I asked glancing from my wrist that he still held and back to his face wondering if he was going to release me. I needed to put some space between us. I wanted to go inside to grab the required tool. My Katana.

"Nope! I want you to take your sign and add the words that hugs and kisses ain't for everyone who comes by to see you."

"You can't be serious?" I shrugged my wrist free.

"Blatant discrimination."

"You are drunk."

"I am not. I've been to your bible study. Once a week for the last two weeks. I have yet to get what it states on that sign when I come here or when it's my time to take leave."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

It was awkward at first. I felt like I was making the first move on to someone I didn't necessarily feel comfortable with due to my crazy level of attraction I had for him. I was going to show him and God.

I stepped forward, unsure of arm placement or how close our bodies should be. It didn't help that Rick was just as confused and awkward as was I. Within seconds we were able to get it right. Soon it began to feel very right. I had never been kissed the way he had kissed me that night. Though brief, I knew I was face to face with my own ruin staring back at me.

I noticed less of his presence around town. The following Sunday he wasn't at church. He had never come back to bible study.

It was like he was avoiding me.


	21. I Will Sleep With You

"Did you think the lion was sleeping because he didn't roar?"  
**― Friedrich Schiller, ****Die Verschwörung des Fiesco zu Genua **

* * *

I will admit I was drawn to her. I couldn't seem to help myself from wanting to engage her in conversation whenever I caught sight of her in town or when she was on her way home.

I dismounted my horse to walk alongside her. Not once had I considered how inappropriate it was to be in her company. My design for her was blatant, and I pretty much didn't give a damn.

"Where did you come from? I thought you were avoiding me. Which is the right thing to do in this situation." Michonne informed me.

"Never been one to do the right thing in a long time. Finding it more difficult to stay the path."

"Well, there are struggle correlations in the bible I could brief you on."

"I am a simple man with simple needs."

"All the same."

"How so?"

"What are we talking about, Sheriff?"

"How about a sign?"

"What sign is that?"

"The sign in your front yard."

"Interesting it is your focus. Still. You may want to share it at testimonial on Sunday."

"Not one to broadcast a weakness of mine. A new one at that."

"Is that so, Sheriff?"

"It is."

"Nothing more can ever happen. Ever."

"Reason why I wanted to talk to you about it. Wanted to know if you kinda felt, what I felt?"

"Doesn't matter. You are married. You have a wife — a baby on the way. I will list off the things that should concern you like adultery, a sin. Coveting is a sin. I will not go to hell for you, Sheriff."

"Promise you resisting is going to feel like hell. It has been for me."

My honesty startled her. She kept looking at me and away twice as if she wanted to say something but was unsure exactly what. We walked for a moment longer in silence as my words marinated around us. I was curious about a few things, and since I still wanted to navigate our direction, I asked her something I wondered about when I had her on my mind.

"Why aren't you married?"

"Why are you married?"

"How would that answer what I'm curious about?"

"In a roundabout way, it does."

"Really?"

"Really!"

"I'm going to need your mind to help me with the right way to think. This sinner here needs assistance. If I weren't married, for example?"

"Then I would take it as a sign that you were a man looking for a wife."

"These days, a wife is more of a liability."

"Yet you have one."

"A liability."

"If I were your wife you would be in big trouble calling me a liability. On the couch, you go!"

"Two things I take issue with, I would never consider you a liability, and secondly, I'm not a man you would designate to any couch."

"I am no liability."

"No, you are not. I've watched you with Morgan. Your movement. You handle the sword well. I've heard you aren't bad with a gun either. I wouldn't consider you a liability."

"Good!"

"See how there would be no reason for me sleeping on any couch but right in bed with you?"


	22. Warm, Moist, Good

"The teeth of my zipper chatter when he draws the pull down. Fingers underneath, he pushes my jeans from my hips with his caress."  
**― Lilith Lo, The Devil's Undertones**

* * *

Usually, I would greet everyone who entered my home with a short embrace to include a simple peck on the cheek, but because I had lost all sense of time, I found myself rushing to take out the last pan from the oven while Eugene went to answer the door.

_Maybe he will bring his wife. His pregnant wife_. I thought to myself.

"Is he here?" I found myself asking Eugene once he had returned.

"Everyone's here. Everyone is wondering what has happened for me to open the door. I told them right off there are no hugs and kisses available. Not from me, there's not."

"How about the Sheriff?"

"I said everyone or are you asking if I have hugs and kisses for him?"

"I am asking if _he i_s part of everyone is here or _Everyone_ includes his wife?"

Dealing with Eugene was frustrating. Especially when he feigned the inability to know how to respond properly. I ended up resigning to the fact that I was going to step out of my kitchen with no forewarning if Sheriff included wife even though the Sheriff's spouse was never actually invited. My lack of being inclusive gnawed at my insides. I made a mental note to mention it to the Sheriff. And just like that, my mental note was torn to shreds once I stepped out of my kitchen to find our Sheriff looking even more handsome than a man should be capable of with just the type of buttoned-up shirt and nicely ironed slacks.

Each person took a brownie. I then took my seat at the table after apologizing for being slightly behind schedule.

After several minutes it was his turn. Everyone was looking from me to him. We were having a moment.

_Warm, moist, Good._

I finally collected my thoughts with a quick caress of my bible I had placed on my lap.

"Hello."

"Hello."

"Welcome to bible study, Sheriff."

"Glad for the invitation." He responded.

"Well, we all start with a little something about why we come to bible study. As you heard from Carol, Tobias, Maggie, Fred, Karen, Miguel, Morgan and his wife Jenny, we would like to know what brings you to the word?"

"What has brought me to the word?"

"Yes."

"Your invitation."

"Outside of my invite, Sheriff."

"Sunday School Teacher, if you hadn't felt the need to invite me here tonight, I would have no reason to pick up this book."

Be still my rapidly beating heart, less I stroke out.

"I mean we all know there are people in our lives or someone who we encounter that move and speak without ever being aware it was the holy spirit. If we all remain prayerful, just imagine how many others we can lead here."

I was tap dancing and the only one amused was this handsome married man sitting directly across from me.

"Any more people this would be a small church." He chuckled along with a few others at the table.

I was surprised to know they found the Sheriff amusing.

"It would still be considered a bible study for adults." Eugene corrected the Sheriff with a nod to me. I nodded back.

"What is the question?"

"What brings you to the word?"

"I'm to put it into words? Aren't those words in this book?"

"I believe so. I would like to hear your thoughts."

"Seems like it would be hard to explain or understood."

"Compared to Eugene being a protector of virgins, I'm quite sure what you have to say will make more sense to us all." Carol quipped.

"It's been a while — a long while. I had spent a lot of time where I was unsure of which direction, until now. I found my reason for being here this evening. Plan to come when I can. I want to get acquainted with the word. Also, I can't help but want another one of your brownies."

_Warm, moist, good._

"Very well! Shall we all bow our heads for a silent prayer?" I had abruptly instructed my bewildered group,

"Why, we've never done so at this point before?"

Eugene was confused, and I was seeking a moment to send a prayer to God because earlier in the day the Sheriff and I had a brief conversation about my Brownies.

* * *

A/N: Back on track...


	23. More About Your Brownies

"I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life."

**― Virginia Woolf, Moments of Being: A Collection of Autobiographical Writing**

* * *

Before I had officially called it a day in town, I made a stop at the supply store with a list given to me by my wife Lori. The supply store was managed by two women. There was one woman ahead of me who was going on and on about the arrival of a pasta machine.

"Sheriff!"

I nodded when one of the women on the other side of the counter acknowledged me, and the one in front of me realized she was being ignored, turned to see me standing there.

"Ladies, ma'am, nice to meet you."

"What can we do for you?"

"Um. I have a list."

The woman name Shelly had taken the list. I wasn't quite sure why. She glanced over it before handing it over to Karen, who was on the other side of the counter with Denise.

"Coming right up."

"Just making sure a pasta maker wasn't on there because they still haven't got any in. I've been waiting for more than four months. I come here every day to check and to no avail. I mean-"

"Shelly, allow the Sheriff a moment to browse our store. He may find needs outside of yours if you don't talk his ear off about something he has no control over."

I was appreciative to Karen. She gave me a chance to back up and away.

"We have a small baby section on the left Sheriff."

I went right.

By going right I found the Sunday school teacher, scooping flour into a bag and weighing it.

"Is that for tonight?"

"What?"

"Flour."

"Sheriff? Sheriff."

I had her full undivided attention. She was so fucking beautiful. It was hard to not want to engage her, talk to her, to be acknowledged by her.

"Sunday School Teacher. We need to stop running into each other like this."

"More like you are seeking me out for some type of amusement."

"I didn't know you were here."

"Doesn't matter."

"Are you upset about something?"

"A little."

"Anything I can help with?"

"What do you want?"

"I gave my list to the front. Should I have given it to you also? Promise you a pasta maker wasn't on it nor flour."

"Shelly is crazy. That is all I got for you."

"What if it is not all I want?"

There was a long moment of silence between us. Our tone was just between us unless someone was listening in on the other side of the wall with the canned and jarred beans and jam.

"Brownies are all that I am offering."

"Was there anything else ever implied about your brownies?"

"You make it seem like you are anticipating more."

"More than moist and good?"

"Warm."

"Well, I guess you are right about your brownies. I am expecting them now to be warm, moist, and good. In that order?"

Michonne shook her head. I wasn't sure why but she dropped her whole bag of flour back inside the bin once she had taken it off the scale. It caused a large white cloud, and if she had worn any other color, it would have been noticeable.

"Are you ever sure about anything? Asking me something, I have no idea what you are actually saying makes me down-right nervous for some reason. I have to pray about it. Ask me something where it isn't so ambiguous."

"Ambiguous." I sounded the word out. Never in my life had I ever used the word in everyday language.

"It means-"

"I know what it means. Not sure why you find more to what I am saying. Usually, when I say something, it is straight forward. Nothing more and nothing less."

"Well, try again."

"Do you like to bake?"

"I do."

"What else do you like to do?"

"I like reading. I like writing. I like scavaging."

"Scavaging? How far have you gone?"

"I've gone over the wall."

"Outside the gates?" I couldn't conceal my shock.

She had only nodded.

What I was learning about Michonne was enough to make me wonder how reckless or naive she must be to skirt with danger. A few miles from the gates was what was once known as Florida. It had officially succumbed to being part of the Badlands. The only thing that separated the new world from the lands of Anarchy and lawlessness were the dead who still roamed near the walls between the divided territories.

Anyone aware of the number of untouched resources made secret plots to ransack in groups. Mostly these groups were skilled fighters, or insanely psychotic. I couldn't imagine what would drive Michonne to take those chances in running into a group that in most cases were worse than a herd. It was no secret about the number of goods including guns hidden in long-forgotten homes that were no longer holding in or out threats, It was literally in the millions sometimes overlapping the dead and the bob-wired walls manned every thirty miles. If caught one could find them shot on spot or forced into slave labor. Didn't matter if you weren't sterile or carrying the mutant gene. Every able body was needed more than ever for the ambitious goal of including parts of Canada until the wall reached all of Alaska.

"How often do you go?"

"Often."

"Incredibly dangerous thing to do. I mean you've got the living and the dead to worry about."

"I am fully aware of the dangers, Sheriff."

"Well, who goes with you?"

"Aaron. Abe. Daryl, sometimes. Daryl comes if he absolutely needs something in order to make a deal with Negan. Mostly, I go alone."

"It's very dangerous to go out there by yourself." I was completely shocked by her admission.

"I can take care of myself." She asserted.

"What is outside those gates worth you risking your life?"

She didn't answer.

* * *

A/N: 07/20/2019 (Updated/Correction) 2:50pm

A/N: I have lost quite a bit of this story due to this new computer/laptop I have. I have walked away and came back. Walked away cursing the sky and ready to toss this thing out the window. I've calmed down. Lol.. Everyone's patience is greatly appreciated.


	24. A Non-Sexual Arrangement

"I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath."  
**― Lisa Kleypas, Again the Magic**

* * *

Brownies.

Brownies were browning for the second time.

"Be careful, Eugene. Those are still hot!"

"Okay. What about these set of squares?" He had asked.

"Perfect." I had accessed after a quick glance from the pan back to my drying rack.

The more I interacted with Eugene, the easier it was for me to keep him preoccupied. He was always willing to assist when I needed. He was dependable.

"I can protect you, you know."

"I know."

"If we were to get married is my meaning, Michonne."

"I know."

"Nothing sexual, of course. But I could be a damn good husband to you."

"I know."

"Had a talk with Pastor Gabriel about it. Told him my intentions. He understood. Think I have his blessings. Said God works in mysterious ways was all he said."

_Yes. God's work is a mystery. Unfathomable. Amazing how I could not imagine for one second accepting Eugene's proposal._

I like to think I am a sexual person even though I have never had sex before. I do have desires, albeit inappropriate. Now with everyone in attendance for bible study including, our Sheriff. My attraction towards our very married newcomer, town protector, versus Eugene and his insistent offer to keep me out of harm's way paled in comparison. Both doomed me to hell. Married man or hours with a mentally challenged person?

I hadn't realized I had spoken. Everyone around the table was taken aback by my statement.

"That's suicide, " Morgan suggested.

"Sounds like this woman has decided." Eugene avoided any eye contact with me because he knew it was my answer to him about marriage. I was at ease; he respected it. Grateful. Life with me may have meant hell for him too?

It was the Sheriff who needed a summary for understanding to what was understood by most virgins who were taken from their homes to be supplied by the highest birthing camp bidder.

"So, you are saying you would rather be torn to pieces by a herd than being treated like a queen at one of those birthing camps?"

"What is difficult to understand?" I had asked.

"Is it in the bible?"

"Take it that she will not bend the knee to no man but a husband," Carol smirked,

"Is that in this bible?"

"Revelations. Nothing at all word for word. Nothing like what is happening has been described word for word." Aaron offered.

"I'm confused." The Sheriff admitted.

"I want a husband. Until then, I and many of us wait. We want to have an evenly yoked union, we purposely keep ourselves intact. Untouched."

"Prized," Tobias added.

"For the hunters, finding the prize at a ripe birthing age and has never been defiled is priceless." Miguel sat back in his chair.

"How is that even detected?" Our Sheriff was genuinely curious.

"Sniffers." Fred leaned forward to take another brownie

"Actually doctors," Carol couldn't hold back her interest in the topic and supplying bits of information she was known to have compared to rumors/myth of supernatural abilities of a few people who had the uncanny ability to determine virgins on their scent.

Before joining the Baptist town, Carol was one of those doctors who checked to ensure a young girl was still intact. Her daughter Sophia was hunted down by sniffers. Like most, Sophia made it out of the Badlands but had a choice once surrounded by human hounds and the dead. She chose the dead.

"I would like to think a man of your caliber, coming from the New World Academy would know about or at least have an awareness of this phenomenon. The last two years it has become more than people can handle with the abductions and trafficking of humans to labor camps."

"I was sent here to provide law and order."

"Well, we'll see how far that gets you if you are thinking and continue to think on such a small scale. There's more than your Vendetta."

I was aware of the jab that Carol swung towards our Sheriff and from his facial expression, he felt it.

"Well, I was under the impression this was Bible Study."

"This is about our community coming together to share information and to spread it for awareness. Gone are ways of the old world, such as mass communication, and-."

"Propaganda." Eugene inserted.

Carol glanced over at Eugene and then back at our Sheriff, "Propaganda. There are communities outside of this town who need to know and to be made aware. What is offered is true but comes at a cost for every man, woman, and child."

"Our son is in one of those camps." Morgan's wife admitted. Her voice was almost lost in her emotions, just trying to admit it.

Morgan had placed his hand on top of his wife's, and Carol rubbed Jenny's arm.

"But how does marriage protect you or anyone from the hunters? They want, they take." Our Sheriff directed his questions towards me.

"A husband would fight for me."

"If he couldn't? If he wasn't able to, due to being trapped?"

"Then I would walk into a herd before going to a birthing camp."


	25. Shane Rides Into Town

_'I don't know [why we're here]. People sometimes say to me, 'Why don't you admit that the humming bird, the butterfly, the Bird of Paradise are proof of the wonderful things produced by Creation?' And I always say, well, when you say that, you've also got to think of a little boy sitting on a river bank, like here, in West Africa, that's got a little worm, a living organism, in his eye and boring through the eyeball and is slowly turning him blind. The Creator God that you believe in, presumably, also made that little worm. Now I personally find that difficult to accommodate…" _  
**― David Attenborough**

* * *

A lonesome dove. Mourning Dove. A welcome change from the persistent crow and the occassional raven.

Upon closer inspection, it was a carrier pigeon sitting atop an empty hen house.

There was a note.

_YES!_

It was my summons.

There were signs I followed, starting with the blue sedan that Tara left behind. I followed her breadcrumbs she carefully placed. Easy enough. I spotted Tara a day out. She was in some cabin, making out with some woman she may have met on her way back.

It doesn't take much for Tara to find some like-minded female who shares in the same. Birthing camps weren't a place anyone with tendencies would ever gravitate too. Wasn't much of a future in the new world with bible thumpers taking hold and rewriting passages as one saw fit to control a slow-growing populous while many refused to work at the camps, whether as laborers or birthers. Preferred to take their chances fighting off the dead or at the mercy of the Lords of the Badlands. Barristers I think they call them.

I finally made it to town. A town carved right out of an old western movie with the number of horses being ridden by men wearing cowboy hats. I later learned it was Negan's men who were in search of the Sheriff but settled with providing news to one of the deputies about a possible invasion headed in all directions. They took off in full gallop as if I were invisible upon my very own horse.

Lucky for me, I knew exactly where he was due to staying longer than intended at the Honky Tonk Bar and Inn. Met Tyrese who seemed to know who I was by him asking just the right questions.

"What did the bird tell you?"

"Yes."

"Well, damn man! Welcome!"

"Not sure about a welcome."

I didn't hide my apprehension knowing how my longtime partner, Rick, saw things and his need to settle issues with a gun. I had spent years feeling quite depressed about the fact he was behind bars, and there was nothing I could do about it. I lost his wife and son, Carl when tasked to protect them. Its a fact I had a difficult time coming to terms with, and now I have to answer to him about it. How it all came about is what Rick would want to know. I'm just not the type of man to lie. He knows that.

"When you talking to him, just stick to the truth of the matter." Tyrese provided sound advice.

"My plan, my man. Where is he?"

"Two places, now that he just got back from being hung upside down in a slaughter-house."

"What?"

"He's good. Proud of his son for following his instructions for once. Didn't waste a bullet." Tyrese grinned from ear to ear.

"Carl?"

"He is around town probably fucking with someone or fucking someone."

"Carl?"

"Locked up little over two years with his Pops. Freedom to exert all that's been pent up is like keeping hungry fighter Pits from fighting. It is what we men need to to do except for his Pops who seem to be saving himself."

"Saving himself for who?"

"He got his sight set on someone in town. Can't make a move with a pregnant wife who still loves him and religion still trying to dictate how to love, who to love, when to love, where..." Tyrese waved off anything more he would want to say since he couldn't think of anything.

"Does Lori know about this?"

"Town talk is harmless for now. Sheriff stays fighting and killing off the problem where people tend to prefer one over the other. What the Sheriff does in his personal life is one thing. Keeping our nuisance problem in check has helped many who would have pitchforks outside his home if it was any other way. I say the Sheriff is on his way of being able to do pretty much whatever the hell he wants as long as no one comes to town who would know what he should actually look like."

"Sounds like a pretty good set up if I ever heard one."

"Thanks to you getting him out earlier than expected."

"I can't take all the credit. Eugene still around here?"

"Got everybody fooled around here."

"How so."

"Acting. When you see Eugene, you will know."

"Where will I find, Rick?"

"One of two places."

"Where are those two places he maybe?"

"At this time of the day, he is at the station or near the church."

Once the men on their horses cleared out, I recognized Rick off in the distance. He was standing on the bottom step in front of a white church, deep in conversation with a black woman. She was dressed as if the world on the outside of the gates hadn't ever gone to shit. She was standing two steps up away from him. From where I was, I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but I could tell it was a conversation I didn't necessarily want to interrupt. I waited.


	26. On The Church Steps

_"I'm gonna love you like nobody's loved you come rain or come shine." _  
**― Johnny Mercer**

* * *

I was surprised, stepping out of the church to find the Sheriff climbing the stairs. It was only seconds earlier that I had left Pastor Gabriel's office. I had his blessing to move to the Hilltop to help facilitate the teachings of our lord and savior and maybe help with the children during their schooling outside of church. Honestly, it was the only thing I could think of to keep a certain married man from being the focus of my attentiion.

"Michonne."

"I hope you are here to speak to our pastor?" I tried to feign indifference at the sight of him. I kept my eyes on the top of his head of curly hair or his eyebrows.

"I am here to speak to you."

"What for? I told you to stay away from me." I tried to go down the steps but he was ready to block me.

"I did stay away from you, Michonne."

"There wasn't a time limit, Sheriff."

"I think we have to-I mean, I want to share something with you. I think it is important."

"What is important is your family. Any man worth his grain in salt, knows family first. Well, correction, God first, then family."

"Woman, I'm not concerned about the order of things."

"I would agree. When was the last time you stepped foot in the church? When was the last time you were here to worship with your family? Your wife, your son? Soon you will have a baby born into this world. Things you need to consider Sheriff."

"Listen to me. I want you to know something. I feel like I can trust you. It's best that you know. I need to share it because I don't want you to think of me negatively. It matters to me that you don't."

"Why does it matter to you what I think?"

"Because it does. It just does. If I am right about a few things between us, I know you like me because what you feel is the same for me I have for you. I have it pretty bad for you. I ain't trying to change it either."

"If you were my husband it would break my heart you are so forward with another woman."

"If you were my wife, you wouldn't have to worry about me and any other woman. I would be honored to have you, Michonne. I would want you as my wife. Maybe a couple of kids of our own if you want."

"I can't listen to any more of your words. You are asking a lot, assuming a great deal, and trying to get me to sin with you—of all places—on the steps of this here church!"

"Your God as my witness, seducing you isn't necessarily my only intentions!"

"That deserves a good slap but knowing you, you would probably find pleasure."

"I pray I'm the only one to bring pleasure to you, Michonne. So much, you seek it from nowhere else."

He had me very flustered. "I need you to stop! There's a saying—."

"I want you to hear what I am saying! It is about the baby my wife is carrying."

"What is it?" I stepped down one step closer drawn in by his sense of urgency by the mere mention of his helpless unborn baby.

"The baby my wife is carrying, ain't mine. I haven't been with my wife in that way."

"Then whose baby is it?"

"My gut has been telling me it's from the camp."

"Rick!" I couldn't hide the fear in my voice. All that I have learned from Eugene was slowly coming true. A birther in our mist.

"I can't keep pretending."

"Is your wife from one of those camp?"

"Yeah."

"They are going to come here!" I was ready to go into full panic.

"I will protect you, Michonne."


	27. More Than One Threat

_"Two stubborn lovers, protecting each other from the very same threat." _  
**― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger**

* * *

_'I would walk into a herd before going to a birthing camp'._

Michonne's words burned me up. Seared to my memory. I believed every word she spoke._ If_ I were her husband, she would rather die than have any other man touch her, impregnate her.

Not Lori...

I had stumbled upon Michonne's doorstep, led by liquid courage and my terrible need to be touched. I wanted to know what she felt like in my arms. Her body. Her embrace. Her lips. Her skin.

It was awkward at first. Our first hug. I wasn't sure if she wanted me to let her go or not because she had stopped patting my back the moment our cheeks brushed against the other. I wasn't pulling away, and she wasn't either. I expected her to taste like brownies. She didn't. It was more like air. Life. Pure. Clean. Fresh.

Within seconds I became aggressive. I hadn't been with a woman in over five years. And the way she kissed was every clue she didn't know how to respond to how I was trying to lead. Gazing into her eyes, I knew it wasn't an act. Michonne had never been with any man.

Our second encounter was just as brief. I knew, without any doubt, I had to get my house in order.

* * *

"You were gone for a long time."

"I had a few men to kill."

I had tossed my boots across the room, avoiding eye contact with my wife, who kept herself present in my bedroom doorway as if awaiting an invite since we arrived two months ago.

"Is that all?"

This was going to be the most Lori, and I had said to each other since the altercation we had at the kitchen table during our first week since arriving in this town. I knew she would want to discuss it at some point. I didn't.

I wasn't going to rehash it with my sister Tara who had insisted Carl and I should have knocked Lori out first before digging the transmitter out of her wrist the way we did. Thought it was cruel and unusual. Reason she would never have a man, want a man when we represented everything she hated about men. What I wanted was for Lori to go away. I wanted to lie back. I wanted to think. I wanted to delay the shower I badly needed because it would wash away what had just happened with the woman from across the street.

Lori repeated her question as if I hadn't heard her the first time.

"Was that all?"

"What do you mean? I've come to do what I set out to do. I settled the score. Waiting now for Shane. I will find out from him if it is his baby you're carrying, and if he was in on you giving Carl over to one of those birthing camps."

"If he isn't the father and had nothing to do with Carl, then what?"

There wasn't a response I could come up with because I had never entertained the idea of my friend, Shane, not involved somehow. If he was guilty of any one of the two, I planned to kill him dead.

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Lori, I don't know what to believe. What I do know is that it ain't my baby."

"It has been established."

"So, it ain't mine, and if it ain't Shane's, then it is from the camp. A choice. Makes no sense to me. The other time, I got past it because, well, I loved you."

"Past tense?"

"I can't get past it. Not this time. I can't."

"This has to be worse than being torn apart by the undead."

"How would you even know?"

My words were heavy — a verbal assault. The sight of Lori's tears produced no other reaction from me. I stood my ground, unwavering, unable to console or feel any regret for what I said or would do if given a chance to do from then on.

"There's been talk about you and the Sunday School Teacher."

"Okay." I shrugged. "Not much can be said about it."

"What could be said, Rick?"

"About it, or her?"

"Is there a difference?"

"Yeah, because I am still trying to figure_ IT_ out and come to terms with _it_ and how_ it_ effects, you, me, Carl and this community. I won't feel ashamed about _it_ either. I don't know if _it_ all brings shame to her because she hasn't shunned me no matter how flagrant I have been towards her. I do plan to have a conversation with her about it. What I do know is that her main concern is you, that baby you're carrying, and what it seems to represent.

"I thought it nice she offered formula. She seems nice. Genuine. She walked with me from the doctor's."

"Curious to know how that came about."

Lori just shrugged. She made no more mention of the encounter with Michonne. I waited for her to reveal more but she had swiftly changed the direction of the topic regarding her, Michonne and baby formula.

"Pastor Gabriel is someone I would like to confide in. I would like to know his thoughts. I would like to have his prayers."

"What are you talking about Lori?"

"This is the first time I am hearing from you about the Sunday School Teacher. You've made no denial. This isn't something I am taking lightly, Rick. I am trying my best to make a bad situation better without any incentive from you. You can't even lie to me."

"What would you like for me to deny?"

"Do you plan to be with her?"

"At some point, yes."

"She feels the same way?"

"Not as long as I am married. No."

"Oh."

"I find myself drawn to her. She made no real objections to being friendly. Nothing more."

"I'm in the way." Lori summed up our story, our marriage. "No one has a bad word to say about her. Not even, Carl."

"Were you looking for one?"

"One what?"

"Bad word?"

"I thought we were to blend in. Family. Husband, wife, son, baby on the way. Now, it's different. But it is not. You aren't a real Sheriff. You are a killer, fresh from Prison. Once revealed, do you think you are going to live happily ever after?"

There. There it was. Laid out bare. Her threat.


	28. Morgan Forewarns The Doctor

_"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."_

**― Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night**

* * *

I had my suspicions, but with everything happening left and right, those concerns had to be placed on the back burner.

I was thankful to be alive. I was forever grateful to our Sheriff's son, who had the skill and fortitude to rescue us from inside of a slaughterhouse located in a tiny town called Terminus.

We had tripped up on an unknown fact of what type of meat they were supplying, and to our detriment, we were a delicacy on someone's palate located in the Badlands.

His son found us hanging upside down, surrounded by men who were ready to do bodily harm once they reached a consensus on how they were guaranteeing our freshness.

We had to kill all of them. A few did try to escape into the surrounding woods only to be hunted down by us. I made a mental note of the number backed up by the Sheriff. All we needed was to tell Daryl where to go to get the bodies and cremate them. A precaution. Just in case.

We made it back to town before noon the next day. Within two minutes of arriving close to the station, we could see an altercation happening between Deputy Spencer and Dr. Pete out front with a few bystanders.

The Sheriff and I dismounted our horses. I didn't think to consider Carl and his safety, despite another violent event unfolding before our eyes.

"What's going on?" Our Sheriff asked.

"There you go, Pete! Damn you! There's the damn Sheriff." Spencer redirected the red-faced town Doctor who had Spencer choked tight by his uniform collar.

It happened so fast. The last bit of energy was enough for me to stop Pete. I held him back. I warned him that this Sheriff he didn't want to mess with if he wanted to live. Sheriff Grimes would kill him if he didn't calm down. If he didn't calm down there wouldn't be much I could do but attend his funeral.

"How long have you been fucking my wife you son of a bitch!?"

"What?" Sheriff Grimes was surprised by the charges hedged against him.

"You heard me you son of a bitch!" The Doctor shouted, charging in the midst of a full-on swing that made contact on the Sheriff's jaw. Instantly, Dr. Pete froze.

"You got it wrong, Doc. I am the son of a bitch who's the mother fucker."

All I wanted to do was heal from the bruising and relish in the fact I came back to my wife intact. Instead, I had to talk a kid into standing down with a gun aimed at our Dr. Pete's head after his Dad was knocked out cold on the graveled ground.

It was late in the evening when I finally made it to my wife Jenny. I ate my supper in silence. She knew something was different, and by bedtime, I could no longer conceal it from her.

"I had to kill some people out there, Jenny,"

"Did you have a choice?"

"No."

"Is it weighing you down?"

"Some."

"Do you want to tell me more about it?"

"What do you think about our Sheriff?"

"He's handsome."

I shot a look at my wife, who kept her focus on her open bible while we sat up in bed.

"Most every woman swoons when he rides by. The men look on with respect. Everyone thinks he's friendly enough even though all he does is a nod, but he seems to take all concerns seriously. He even got a pasta maker for Shelly. She is one of his most ardent supporters now. All she talks about is it took a Sheriff to satisfy her need. I thought Michonne showed a little bit of jealousy if you ask me."

"Town talk is going to sink him if he doesn't stop flirting with Michonne and tend to his pregnant wife."

"I agree. Michonne confided in me about it. I won't betray her confidence, but I will say her moving to the Hilltop will be a big help in our Sheriff refocusing."

"I tried to have words with him about it while I was out there trying to get back to you."

"What did he say?"

"Not a damn word that indicated he was going to heed advice nor the scripture I had quoted about adultery. But I have to admit our nuisance has been slow to react. I am starting to believe Negan and his men have met their match with this one we have in the driver seat. Can't deny people are feeling a little more content with life because he is heavy-handed."

"Some times, one must go outside the lines no matter how blurry it is to everyone else." My wife offered.

"Everything he has done has been against NWO procedures, regulations, and real-life practices."

"He moves to his own drum. What so bad about that?"

"Who has given him such license to wield his brand of justice? What he continues to do is dangerous. Dangerous for us all."

"Do you plan to report him?"

"No. I plan to scout for a new Doctor."

"What happened to Doctor Pete?"

"He's soon to be a dead man."


	29. The Governor Has A Carrot

"Errors do not cease to be errors simply because they're ratified into law."  
**― E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly,**

* * *

_Don't you know the devil wears a suit and tie_

_Saw him driving down the 61' in early July_

_White as a cotton field and sharp as a knife_

_I heard him howling as he passed me by..._

**Colter Wall- The Devil Wears A Suit, And Tie**

* * *

The Governor of Atlanta stopped short of leaving his full-length mirror to readjust his tie once more. He was well aware of how handsome he appeared when his suit properly show-cased his impeccable taste in the most beautiful silks and cotton materials and well-constructed design. He was well endowed; the imprint to the left was proof. His striking features seemed to give him a hard-on every time.

"Where are you going?" Andrea shielded her eyes from the flood of sunlight from the curtainless window.

"I have an appointment with the Counsel."

"Appointment?"

"Yeah."

"Why? What for?"

"I'm going to pitch my idea one more time. I'm giving the Counsel one more chance to see things my way, if not, then I will have my people knock down the walls all around us."

Andrea sat up, holding the sheet to her breast, alarmed.

"You are talking seceding Georgia and causing a Breach? Without the protection of the wall, we would have no way of ensuring the safety of the state. It is that very wall that keeps the dead and those lunatics from the Badlands from taking over."

"It doesn't have to be that way if they agree. If not, we have to take extreme measures."

"All this to garner the rights to have birthing camps inside the walls?"

"Very profitable business. There are still very wealthy people looking for children."

"For what purpose?"

"I would suppose the same purpose a pup would serve for some. Mostly we are a dying species. Being in a predicament we are in as humans, we must take things seriously, aggressively, and-."

"Rationalize the fact it isn't human trafficking?"

"It isn't. Years ago, it was for a sexual purpose with the use of whore houses and prostitution. This is different. Breeding is the goal. Reproduction. Male, Female. Most camps lack the sophistication I plan to employ. While they force in most cases two-people to fuck each other, I would like to proceed with milking. Prisoners would be a great resource. I want you to continue visits there in the future."

"Okay," Andrea responded.

"Regardless of the outcome with the counsel today, I want you to stay in talks with all five prisons. I want you to stay in communication with the wardens at each facility. Our goal is to figure out a way to cause minimal disruption."

"Okay."

"Something a gay or straight male should be able to handle. Sperm collection from genetically cleared males and all the female participant endures is a turkey baster during ovulation. Less stressful for both parties."

"Homosexuality has been considered a defect by NWO. The science is no longer manipulated to support it to the degree it had been pushed before. There was an agenda behind it."

"There's natural selection. Cannot argue that some are born."

"How do you plan to determine a newborn or a child's sexuality, Phillip?"

"The highest bidder?" Phillip smirked. They are the ones willing to pay the most believe it or not. Especially with their community taking a direct hit. They have suffered the most during the worst period of the plague, and with no one offering babies their way, I plan to create a monopoly in my favor."

Andrea opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. Instead, she allowed the sheet to fall away to exit the bed to grab her robe draped over the large chaise.

"What are you doing?" Phillip asked, eyeing Andrea's movements and the last glimpse of her bright pink nips he suckled until she begged him to stop hours ago. He was hoping she wasn't trying to tag along with him. He had other business deals he was pitching, and he didn't want her privy to every detail.

"I am going to the King's County Baptist Town like you had asked me to last night."

"Ahh. Yes. Check on that Sheriff we sent. What Negan has reported has been quite disturbing. Can't afford to lose more men mysteriously and without the Sheriff's help is against why we sent him. Anything Negan needs should be the Sheriff's priority. It's been weeks since we have been able to access any wifi successfully with the constant interception of power grids, towers, and viruses. Also, while you are gone, I need you to have an eye out on Eugene. If you see him, entice him with Rosita."

"Rosita?" Andrea froze upon hearing the name.

"I will get her back for him only if he comes back and works for me. I need him back."

"Where is Rosita?"

"Dangling like a carrot from my thumb." Phillip winked before heading out of the bedroom.


	30. A Wife Knows

"The devil has not vanished simply because people refuse to believe he exists, no more than God has..."  
**― E.A. Bucchianeri, ****Brushstrokes of a Gadfly**

* * *

The talk from the bystanders fed the Rumor Mill. Worry caused deep grief to foreshadow her proposal she would make to the Pastor who wasn't in the church but visiting a prisoner in a make-shift cell at the station. Inside was an unconscious Sheriff atop a cot next to one lone tiny window, and an unused bucket propped in the corner of a small room.

By the time, Michonne arrived, she ran smack into Pastor Gabriel who was leaving.

"Is he okay?"

"I have no way of telling. Had to go with what Carol says. With that, and laying prayer hands, it is all in God's hands. I have to check with our Doctor Pete to get to the bottom of this. Hopefully, we can come to some agreement or resolution. The accusations were made in front of those who heard first hand. The son, Carl, admitted to being guilty. Easy enough decision to make."

"Banishing a kid is an easy decision?"

"I understand your concern, Sister Michonne. You have always had a soft spot for the young amongst us. We must stay the course. Our bible tells us to cast the fornicator out of our midst. Unless the Doc wants to give up his wife to the young man to marry, the Sheriff son must leave from here."

"How do you think Doc Pete will decide?"

"On my way to see him now."

"What a burden."

"Nothing is too heavy for our God. The young man could have been lying to protect his father. What I know from seeing the world through God's glasses is this town may need a new Sheriff."

"May get some answers from Pete's wife, Jessie. Are you going to ask her any for clarity?"

Pastor Gabriel nodded, contradicting his response. "May not get the truth from a woman who was foolish to allow herself to be seduced."

"Hi, Michonne." Spencer greeted upon setting his eyes on the nicely dressed woman who was conversing with their Pastor. He remained genuinely friendly, unaffected by the number of times she had rebuffed his advances in the past.

"Hi, Spencer."

"I will take leave." Pastor Gabriel announced, stepping out of the door of the station.

"You heard about our Sheriff, huh?"

"I have. Why is our Sheriff locked up?"

"Only way to keep an eye on him if he wakes."

"You think he will be happy about it? He's not a criminal."

"He would be a bonafide murderer if Morgan hadn't thought of it. The Docs days are numbered, believe it or not."

"I don't. He's not the kind of evil to kill someone over a simple misunderstanding. I happened to be a very good judge of character." Michonne touted.

Spencer decided against his need to reveal the evil that ran with no leash kept locked in the back room. The idea that Michonne could still see the good in someone like the Sheriff was mind-boggling to Spencer.

Michonne's sheltered perspective was what made her more attractive to most men who saw an opportunity to soil a virgin, stripping away her goodness.

"Can I see him?"

"Sure, Michonne."

Michonne followed Spencer to the back of the station.

"His wife hasn't been here yet. Mabel sent her son T-Dog to go and bring her here."

"Only right."

"I would say so." Spencer turned the key after listening for any movement inside. There wasn't any. A very precarious arrangement he felt.

Michonne took one step inside, and her eyes instantly took in what looked to be a sleeping man with his boots still on his feet. Nothing out of order she thought until she spied his solid boner that was fighting inside of his denim.

"Do you want me to remain with you, Michonne? Help you pray?" Spencer offered.

"Well..."

"Well,..what?"

"I can't be here. I shouldn't. My spirit says he will be okay." Michonne pushed past a confused deputy.

Spencer hurried to lock the door to keep pace with Michonnne's sudden retreat back to the front of the station. She needed to put some distance between her and Sheriff Grimes. If he were to survive Michonne knew she would have to get Pastor Gabriel permission to move to the Hilltop. She would procure a ride with one of Mabel's son's who had business there every other week. Only if the Sheriff died, she would remain.

Before Michonne could make it out the door of the station, she was now faced to face with Lori who had just arrived. The two women shared a short embrace.

"Is he alright?" Lori had asked.

"I don't know." Michonne's eyes couldn't help taking in the protruding belly before locking eyes with Lori. "Spencer will take you to see your husband. God has a way of telling a piece of information to a wife that the rest of us may not be privy too."

Spencer began scratching his temple unable to look at either of the women.

"Will you come with me to pray over my husband?" Lori extended the invitation to a very flustered Michonne.

Michonne glanced from Lori to Spencer.

Spencer took his cue. "Only one person permitted at a time. No exceptions."


	31. The Dead Man's Hat

"_It's harder to heal than it is to kill." _  
**― Tamora Pierce**

* * *

"Hey, kid!"

Negan realized instantly he was to feel he made a mistake by placing his hand on the young man's shoulder after not getting his attention by calling after him. Negan knew the look all too well from men who were much older and braver to challenge him.

"How old are you?" Negan held back a chuckle even though his amusement danced the jitterbug in his eyes.

"What is it to you?"

"You have a lot of spunk for a kid. I will give you that."

"Didn't ask. Don't care."

"Whoa! Who nibbled on your dick? I'm just friendly! Have no clue to who you are is all."

"He's the Sheriff's son," Ron informed the town's most significant nuisance. "His name is Carl."

"Ah! The Sheriff has a son. Next, you will tell me he has a wife and a baby on the way." Negan's attention was on Ron. Negan made a point to remember his face just in case the teen ever needed a job. One thing Negan did not want was someone so free with information.

"He does. The new Sheriff has all those things attached to him." Ron quickly added.

"Since when is our Law enforcement permitted to have such extreme liabilities?" Negan questioned aloud. He wasn't expecting a response from the other men who stood with him, slowly surrounding the two young males walking together on the outskirts of town near questionable landlines.

Ron avoided the glare he felt he was receiving from Carl.

"What I am curious to know is where did you get that hat?"

"From a dead man," Carl responded unflinchingly.

If Negan weren't so cold-blooded, he would have felt what should have been chilling. It was, in every way, a threat. He was tickled, fired up, and curious about the circumstances behind the hat.

Ron's heart raced the more they became enclosed. He could see there was no way for a possible escape. He could no longer stand apart from Carl.

One of the men from behind Carl grabbed the hat. Carl turned to take it back as it was being tossed to each man who inspected it. Each man nodded before handing it off until it was finally in the hands of the one who was questioning how he came upon it in the first place.

"So, Jared is a dead man, you say? Do you know who killed him?" Negan asked.

"I did." Carl didn't blink or falter.

"Sure, kid. How would you have taken on four men? Did you have help?"

"I don't need help."

"Really?"

"I will kill each of you one by one too if you don't get out of my way." Carl turned to look at each man, giving him their death sentence.

"Be careful son, you are in no position for issuing threats, and I don't give a shit if you Daddy is the Sheriff. I will bash your head in with this hungry for blood Lucille, and gladly show your Daddy what has come of-."

"What in the hell is going on here?"

Herschel rode up to where the men were all congregated out past the open field. There was a confidence Herschel exuded and with two of his own grown son's and three of Mabel's all mounted on well-fed horses, shotguns pointed in the direction of Negan, he was keen to know what was the problem and why was it taking place on his property line.

Negan raised his hand with the Dead Man's hat spinning on his index finger, the other with the head of Lucille buried in the earth. Negan's men took it as a sign to open up their circle around the two teens.

From what Herschel could see a threat was made and it wasn't a leap or far-fetched due to the fresh piss stain in the front of Ron's trouser.


	32. A Face To Go With The Badge

"Heroes don't always have capes, badges or uniforms. Sometimes, they support those who do."  
**Andrea Randall ―**

* * *

The Honky Tonk remained generally empty. It was a place Rick could get enough alcohol in his system to go home. He was on his third drink. He wondered why the much older man took a seat next to him at the bar when he had so many other places available to sit. He had also ordered the same drink as Rick and gulped it just as fast. He introduced himself as Herschel. There was an ease that reminded Rick of his very own father.

"A pregnant woman is a sight for sore eyes."

"Depends on who's pregnant," Rick responded. It was too late for Rick to reconsidered his offhanded remark after he had made it.

The glint in Herschel's eyes indicated he was checking off boxes that had no questions attached. Rick felt a slight concern if he was being measured up or compared to something or someone. Herschel had not once asked him to solve a problem, and it puzzled him to some degree until the older man finally did. Eventually.

"You have a fine wife. Met her the other day. You weren't there when I rode by that afternoon. Went in search for you at the station. Word I got from Spencer, you were probably in some predicament or dead. I see it is still evident Spencer is no type of Sheriff for this town or any other." Herschel shook his head when Tyrese tried to pour him more liquor.

"He has realized that," Rick assured.

"Nothing worse than a man you can't count on to help you out of an unfortunate predicament."

"I have Morgan. Abe has proven capable. He has the muscle. A sizable fist. Good with a gun."

"I have to admit I pictured in my head someone different," Herschel admitted.

"Different? Different than Morgan? Different than Abe?"

"Different than you. I just had to put a face to the badge. I would have never guessed you be the one to have our Miss Michonne all tied up in knots. You look nothing like Mike."

Rick knew of only one person he had actually referred to Michonne the way Herschel just had and it was Mabel. He sensed the influence. Truth be told, Michonne had him in knots and he wasn't about to discuss it openly.

"Mike?"

"The one she was to marry. The marriage was to take place two years ago."

"What happened?"

"Mike died trying to bring back a cat he had seen in an abandon gift shop. It was a sad day for us all when we found out her Mike was bitten. He was her first kill."

"It is incredibly dangerous outside those Gates."

"For some, it is worth the risk. There is a lot of value in stepping into hell and back. Gives a person a greater appreciation for laws, safety, and structure."

Rick was surprised when the old man turned his stool to take leave.

"Glad to have made your acquaintance, Sheriff. Sheriff...?"

"Grimes."

Rick had not once turned his head to watch Herschel take leave of the Ole Honky Tonk. From the look on Tyrese's face, he knew the man was still standing some distance away. Rick heard him clearly.

"Rick Grimes. My son knows who you really are. He spent ten years in the Pen. The last three you were there. You almost broke his back he says. He had healed enough to make his escape. He has been home with me ever since. He's not trying to go back, and he is not going to say a word about how he knows you. My son says you are a force to be reckoned with and that your son isn't any type of Whimp. Killed a kid over pancakes he says. When I came upon him, your son surrounded by those men and Negan, I can see you both have it in your eyes. Surprised you both can move amongst these busy body Christians the way you have without a call to toss you both out on your asses. It must be that pregnant wife of yours. She's the glue to keeping the facade alive and well. Remember that. Take heed, young man."

"If she's the glue then we are all damned."

Herschel chuckled. His hand on the doorknob. "What is broken can still grow even when you are tending to make room to admire the garden of another."

The sound of the door indicated Herschel had exited the building. Rick tried to gauge from Tyrese face that softened quite a bit if he knew about the visit in advance and didn't warn him.

Tyrese shrugged.

"You going to tell me what that was about?"

"An old man who wanted to put a face to the badge and to let you know from his lips to your ear, your secret is safe with them."

"Fuck."

* * *

A/N: I hate to briefly pause this story but I must update ALL I NEED. Everyone's continued support and Patience has been greatly appreciated.


	33. On My Way To Kill The Doctor

_"I was mortified by the prospect of becoming hopelessly trapped in someone else's story." _  
**― Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevin**

* * *

I wanted out of that Goddamn room!

"Not until you promise, Sheriff."

"What am I promising again?" I needed my memory refreshed.

"That you don't storm off and kill the only doctor we have for our town."

"The only doctor for thirty miles around may I add!"

Spencer and Morgan were trying to get me to see things reasonably. I had to allow them the belief that their tag team on the other side of the locked door was working since I couldn't kick this motherfucking door down.

"We are going to need you to swear, Sheriff. On your life." Spencer set the parameters of swearing.

"Okay, I swear. I swear I won't shoot the doctor."

"We need you to swear you won't kill the doctor." Morgan's voice was much closer to the door.

"I swear on my wife's life and the child she's carrying I won't use a bullet-"

I heard the turn of the lock. Too late. I was out!

"Goddamn, it Spencer!" Morgan cried out at the error made by the younger man.

"He swore on his wife and child," Spencer argued.

I was headed out the door of the station into daylight with no need for a weapon. I had a man to kill and I knew how to do it quickly and with only my bare hands.

A short distance from the station sat Carl and Tyrese mounted on a horse with their shotgun raised without hesitation to shoot if the gun behind me hadn't lowered.

My back remained to Morgan and Spencer who must have realized the only way to stop me would be to put a bullet in my head. Whichever the two who was stupid enough was smart enough to think twice.


	34. Staking Claim

_"Why do we love anyone? It just happens. There's something about the person which speaks to us. Then, in exploring it, we discover that those qualities which piqued our interest are far more outstanding than we knew. We_  
_continue to reach for each other, and somewhere along the line our souls communicate." _  
**― Katie Blu, Staking Their Claim**

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

"Living."

"You choose a time like this?" Tyrese was worried about the danger Michonne had inadvertently placed herself in by coming to the bar when scouts were sitting in their midst.

"No better time than the present."

Tyrese eyed the few patrons inside of the Honky Tonk who took up space at tables, providing a safe enough distance to chastise someone he respected. "If the Sheriff gets wind of this, you know whose ass he will have?"

"Mine." Michonne giggled. She was tipsy. Thanks to Daryl, who Tyrese had guessed provided her a taste of Moonshine.

"Not after he chews into mine and possibly strangles Daryl." Tyrese shook his head.

Tyrese was glad if he were ever asked he could honestly say he wasn't the one who supplied Michonne any alcohol nor the coin that would make its way into the jukebox. It was a momentary relief. Tyrese knew his unsuspecting friend in the back room of the bar wouldn't like it one bit to see Michonne in such a state. The odds of Rick coming out from the meeting held with a group of worried townspeople seeking guns to finding Michonne in the bar had deadly potential. This included if any man were to make a move to talk to her, let alone dance with her.

"You do know he has a wife?" Michonne informed Tyrese of a well-known fact.

"How much has he told you about his wife?"

"Enough to imply that we are all doomed!"

"Then, you've got your answer. When his sight is set, there isn't any way you're going to get him to change directions unless you aren't 100% loyal. When he trusts you, he trusts. He only has your actions and words, and he has been hanging on to yours for quite some time, Michonne."

"She still loves him."

"Every good man has one or two that do."

"I going to keep praying. I have to believe that God would not have sent me a married man. Not my God. He wouldn't."

Michonne jumped off the stool and headed over to the jukebox. After careful consideration, she made her selection from what was deemed oldies, but goodies. Michonne selected Janis Joplin, 'One Good Man.'

The sight of hips and ass was enough to keep Tyrese's eyes glued until he realized he was being asked for a shot of whiskey.

"Comin up, Boss."

Tyrese set the clean shot glass down and poured.

Rick tossed it back and requested another. Tyrese's slight hesitation caused Rick to turn his stool to take a look at what caused Tyrese to become slow in serving up the liquid needed to ease his mind about the dangers lurking in their midst. Rick's eyes caught the sight of Shane stepping inside, instantly giving him a less than inconspicuous nod before noting where Shane would sit in the bar.

A slight swivel more, Rick spied a pair of black heels worn by pale legs, a short denim miniskirt. Jessie. She was lost into the tune that played. Jessie's barely an ass was on display. At the same time, she danced in the same vicinity as the woman who had the most perfectly round bottom. Rick instantly recognized her less than a few feet away wearing a pair of nicely fitted jeans. Michonne.

Rick casually glanced around the room to garner who out of the two women were getting the most attention on the dance floor. His possessiveness was in overdrive.

Michonne's back remained to all of them that were spectating, calculating, and fantasizing, Rick included.

"I would've never guessed the Sunday School Teacher could move to anything other than Church music," Carl commented. He took the vacant stool next to his Dad, twisting off the cap of a cold enough brew he swiped from a slow to react patron. It was quickly replaced by Tyrese to keep the peace. Carl noticed his words were enough to break the spell his Dad was under. One thing his Dad did not like was for someone to sit next to him unexpectedly, uninvited.

Tyrese had the wherewithal to pour Rick more to drink.

"What is she doing here?" Rick asked.

"Asked her the same thing," Tyrese answered.

"Damn, Dad, after tonight, you are going to have to fight them all off," Carl smirked at his Dad. It was very blatant that his Dad was still very much into the Sunday School Teacher.

"What did she say?" Rick ignored his son. He questioned Tyrese for details, and in doing so, he tipped his head for Carl to take leave from the stool and go to the other side of the bar.

Jessie was ready to follow Carl, but she stopped short when Rick slowly shook his head. She kept dancing while Carl knew he had to get in position.

Carl's instructions were clear, and he was going to follow them. Shoot first. If anyone had a problem with it, don't hesitate to kill them too.

"She's scared," Tyrese told him.

"Is that what she told you?"

"She came in with Daryl Dixon. Had some of his Gadawful Moonshine. Pretty clear to me, she's more afraid of going to a birthing camp than sipping on his shit that tastes like I-be-goddamned!"

The way she moved her body was like a beautiful dream he would recreate when he was alone in his bedroom where he thought of her, romanced her, made love to her in hundreds of ways that drove him to near madness. He was unable to masturbate, no matter how he tried. Certain parts of his penis were unbelievably sore, painful to the touch. A sensation he had never experienced when he met Lori nor the five years in prison without sex ever induced. He never had a strong desire to jack off until he met Michonne.

Just seeing the back of her neck teased him, tempted him. He imagined biting her, pressing his body against her naked skin, gripping her waist, suckling her breast, parting her...

Rick's feet led him to the dance floor at the same time another fellow was going to make his move.

Shane was ready.

Carl was ready.

Even Tyrese had a pistol hidden under a spare rag on his right. He, too, was ready. All three only relaxed when the man backed off and sat back down after Rick had raised his hand to halt him from even trying.

* * *

A/N: Slight update/change 03/21/2020


	35. The Taste Of Moonshine

"They say all marriages are made in heaven, but so are thunder and lightning."

**Clint Eastwood**

* * *

We were becoming too familiar with one another, and it had to stop.

Now that I knew what he felt like pressed against me, I found it difficult to not want him, no matter how much I reminded myself he was married. My bed became such a lonely place to languish after feeling and seeing what was hidden in his jeans. It was hot. I craved.

I can still feel his kiss. The taste of alcohol on his tongue when it met with my own. I've never experienced this level of want for anyone. I wanted him enough to start touching myself, down below near my secret spot, but the rings would always stop me. They were small. I have seven given to me at birth. My labia majora has been pierced together. A ladder. No mutilation. Just ring, I have no idea who else has rings. It's a topic not readily discussed. The practice has since been prohibited in the NWO and most religions. Eugene says people were secretly doing this to their daughter's and n's in hopes of a reprieve from the birthing camps. To have this signified, you may be the missing Heir or Heiress to rule the Badlands. There's a hefty bounty to find them. A promise of riches if who you've discovered isn't a fraud. This is all according to Eugene. When he tells the story, it is similar to the glass slipper for Cinderella. If his audience is a group of males, he calls the character Sin.

I don't usually try to touch myself, not until he came along. When I would try, it would only cause me to feel ashamed and even more frustrated. I was a virgin who couldn't even masturbate.

I was high off the Moonshine and him that night. I didn't care about the witnesses or that he was married when we began to dance inside of the Old Honky Tonk Bar and Inn.

"I'm going to dance with you." He announced by turning me around. I had halted from swaying to the music coming from the jukebox. Kenny Wayne Shepard.

Shame, shame, shame

Shame on me forever lovin' you baby...

"Why would you do that?" I was startled.

"Because there are some men here who aren't from this town who think they have a chance. They are sitting back, watching you, waiting to get enough courage before they try to dance with you."

"I would just tell them no."

"I'm doing it for you. Any man foolish enough, brave enough, will have to get through me to get to you."

"Really?"

"I figured the more you look like you belong to someone, the safer you will be-this far out of town."

"I'm on the outskirts. Not the same as being on the outside of the walls. Also, I want to add, I don't belong to you."

"You are far enough where you could have your hands full, trying to dissuade the lot. And right now, I got them thinking that you just may belong to me."

I was instantly sobered by his forwardness in taking my hand, pulling me close to him. Like magic, we were swaying entirely in sync.

"Why did Daryl bring you here?"

"I told him to bring me here."

"Not smart. Where is he?"

"Do you have a problem with Daryl or that I am here?"

"When I see Daryl, I plan to have a word or two with him, and depending on how our conversation goes, I may or may not have a problem with him." His tone carried a heavy-weight of seriousness. "I watched you get on the back of his bike."

"So." I wasn't bothered by his observation.

"I didn't like it. And I don't like the fact Daryl allowed you to drink Moonshine."

"You still have a real wife to control." I reminded.

"And yet that fact still has no effect on where I stand when the time comes, where I don't have a wife and my need to establish some ground rules with you."

"If I were your wife and I wanted to get on the back of a motorcycle or drink-."

"You would be on the back of my bike if I had one and any drinking-we will do together. Outside of that would be bloody murder."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Any man who dares to ask, take, or assume would be threatened by me."

I was cautioned by the look in his eyes. There was something akin to non-negotiable, his way or no way. I found him to be more dangerously alluring than I ever imagined possible. Even though I was quickly his, I realized there were buttons I could push to see how far he would take things to stake claim over me, that thought alone frightened me. I didn't try to deny the power he had over me to comply with his wishes to not make him jealous, but I gave it no further acknowledgment.

"I know how to take care of myself." I reminded him.

"I know. I've watched you many times practicing with Morgan. I know what you are capable of."

"More reason I don't need you to pretend to be my man. I can handle myself."

"When I stop this pretending-because I have been doing a lot of it since coming to this town, I have to first get people accustomed to a new reality, and that includes you. Right now, at this very moment, I am your man. It is what I am trying to convey to those around us and to you. Nothing you can do to dissuade me, Michonne. I don't give a shit what people think about me wanting you, but I do have a problem when it is others thinking they have a chance with you. I just do."

We were silent. We continued our dance. I began to wonder if Rick was just as swept away by the guitar like I was upon hearing the song for the very first time. There was a new meaning staring into his blue eyes while our hips undulated to the blues. How could this man feel so right, so good, so tempting? His hands. His body. The shared closeness was almost too much, too right, and too perfect. I had fallen in love with him long before ever realizing

We had barely danced a whole seven minutes when the first gun-shot caused the entire bar to react. Tyrese had shot a man coming up from behind Rick with a broken bottle ready to do bodily harm because the Sheriff gave a non-verbal cue he couldn't cut in to dance with me. A different man prepared to draw his own gun but was shot by Carl with no hesitation, perfect aim.

Rick quickly escorted me to the ladies' room. A few other women followed behind, frantic. I didn't realize I had blood on my face until he began to wipe the few specks from the side of my jaw and forehead with a fresh damp cloth sitting in a basket by the basin.

"I need you all to stay here. Stay away from the door." He spoke to all of us.

I didn't recognize any of the women except for Jessie. They all scurried over to the last two corner stalls to huddle.

Rick continued his instructions that were meant for me because he gave me his gun. "Only shoot if I don't knock. We've just killed two scouts from Lori's birthing camp. The rest will definitely be here before dawn with them not reporting back."

I kissed him. He was startled. Hesitant. I kissed him again more brazen than ever. He grabbed my face and held my chin between his thumb and fingers. I expected him to bring his lips to mine, but they only grazed my face.

"There are two kisses I need right now that'll suit me just fine. One for the cheek and one for the wind." He whispered in my ear.

"Maybe with a little more practice, I would know how to give you what you need."

He was searching for something by staring into my eyes. I was laying it out to him and to God. I wanted to be a very bad sinner since the end was so very near. I planned to walk into a herd than to go to a birthing camp, and I wanted to know things like passion before I took my life. Instead, the Sheriff had turned to leave. His hand was on the door, but instead of pushing it open, he turns and rushes over and kisses me just as feverishly as the night he was on my doorstep looking for hugs and kisses.

Then he was gone.


	36. Jessie Has A Gun

"You've got the killer instincts of a houseplant."

**― Josephine Angelini, Starcrossed**

* * *

The silence was unnerving. Jitters permeated the tiny stall causing Jessie to be the first to step out. She wanted reassurances of what could be happening outside of the ladies' room. There weren't any sounds of any battle, whether with fist, objects, or guns—just silence.

"What's going on, Michonne?" Jessie's voice broke above the silence causing the whimpers from the women who chose to remain hidden to take a backstage.

"I don't know."

Michonne's momentary lack of direction added more elements to her sobering response. Her conflicting emotions no longer remained fueled by the amount of alcohol she had consumed earlier. A second before the question, Michonne thought nothing could dampen the sensation tingling below the surface of her lower lip. Michonne would have never guessed it would take Jessie's voice of concern to help her compose herself.

"What should we do?" Jessie continued to seek direction, unable to formulate a plan.

"We?" Michonne's eyes widen, and it was only then, she noticed Jessie holding a gun pointed at the restroom door. Michonne wasn't aware the petite blonde had acquired any experience with a weapon outside of her beauty that came attached with the inability to extricate herself out of situations. Now, we? The training was mandated by their new Sheriff for those capable. Michonne couldn't recall seeing Jessie's name on the shortlist for open carry.

Jessie's name on the list for training that was mandated by their new Sheriff some time back. "Where did you get that?"

"Carl."

"Why?"

"To protect me when I am out."

"Do you know how to use it?"

"I wouldn't have it if I didn't know how to use it."

"Who taught you?"

"Carl taught me since the Sheriff refused to include me. He is still bitter about Pete. I'm thankful to Carl. Without him, I wouldn't be in any type of position to help in any kind of way. If it wasn't for Carl."

"Carl?"

"It's not what you think. He was willing to teach me when no one else would."

"Carl?"

Jessie sucked her teeth in frustration. She wanted to change the subject or at least have it less centered around the Sheriff's son and more on her newly obtained abilities. "I'm worried, Michonne. I don't hear anything. Do you think they are all dead?"

Michonne could not explain the reason for the silence nor hide her skepticism about Jessie. Who in their right mind would choose Jessie's help in a shoot out when she obviously failed at logic and probability?

Jessie sensed Michonne's reservations, "I've gone with Carl outside the gates. I took down four out of five walkers. I plan to even kill my husband with it."

Pow.

A single sound from a skyward aimed pistol pierced yet another hole through the Honky Tonk ceiling followed up by a deep boisterous shout from a voice sounding like Eugene's. His tone carried a surprising authority that he was indeed the town's Sheriff.

* * *

A/N: I pray everyone is safe and healthy with our new normal that is quickly approaching in real life.

I have delayed this story for no other reason than it is a mammoth. This and my Fox Brain just can't tell a simple story to save my life. I have puzzle pieces everywhere. I had to pause. Add. Pause. Reread. Pause. Add. Writing has become more and more therapeutic in a sense. I hope there are still some readers left for this or interest, in general.

I have made slight updates/ smoothing out of the last two chapters recently.


	37. Eugene's The Sheriff

"He was the epitome of virile beauty, but with that undeniable edge of something dark and dangerous beneath."

**― Abby Green, The Virgin's Debt to Pay**

* * *

The sound of a simultaneous shot caused Rick's heart to fall into his stomach. For a moment, he was sure it had sounded from the Ladies' room. Rick summed up the odds in seeing most of the room still had their hands up at the sight of two Heckler and Koch handguns ready to fire off by Shane, Tyrese with a sawed-off shotgun and Carl locked and loaded. The ones who didn't have their hands up had their own guns aimed at Shane, Tyrese, Carl and now him.

"Hold up! Hold up in here! I am the Sheriff of this here town. Only shooting will be from my gun written into law on the 3rd-month 5th day, year of our holy baptism. My gun is used only to control lawlessness and this Honky Tonk is rife!"

Eugene's antics seemed to be the best distraction or a likely cause for a blood bath. Rick was on the fence.

Next to the bar, a tall, slender brunette dressed in black latex raised her hand, which was a command to her remaining scouts to lower their weapons.

"My name is Jadyss. Nice to meet you, Sheriff."

"This here town is protected by laws. Lawlessness has no place here. This is a good ole Baptist town." Eugene repeated useless information.

"Well then, Sheriff of the good people, I represent the birthing camp of the south. All we want is the child that was born a few hours ago."

"Only the baby?"

"Well, yes for the camp. I, on the other hand, am seeking out the virgins and was surprised one was sniffed out in all places, a place like this."

Jadyss took a few more steps towards the ladies' room but not before halting next to Rick who she sniffed out something very firey, equating it to his virility. His steely blue eyes bore into her. She sensed his pent up sexual desires immediately.

"You will lay down with me tonight."


	38. Book Of Morgan

_"That's the trouble with witnesses. They always look at the wrong things."_  
**― Craig Rice, ****Trial by Fury**

* * *

We were sitting around a small campfire. Second full night resting on a cold ground instead of back home in bed with my wife Jennie, who was probably worried out of her mind. Sheriff volunteered to stand watch on this night. He wasn't very talkative, no matter the topic. The Sheriff didn't have much of an opinion on any particular subject, mostly preferring to listen than interject. Surprisingly, receiving an occasional nod or shrug sufficed.

"We have an idea who the pasta maker is for, but who is that kitten for?" Spencer was curious even though he knew we would never really know. Not from the horse's mouth, we wouldn't.

"Probably for his wife." I assumed.

"Wife doesn't like cats."

Spencer and I were both shocked by a response given by our Sheriff. Only Spencer quickly recovered from such a rare chance at dialogue.

"Got it for yourself?" Spencer became more interested in this little known fact about the Sheriff's wife. A wife that the town knew very little about except she was married to the town's top law office and was expecting a baby any day.

"Was told someone likes them. No different than the pasta machine." Rick shrugged. He spoke as if it was a matter of fact.

"Everyone knows who wants, or will die without a pasta maker. I can't imagine who would ask for you to bring back an animal that isn't a cow or a pig, or a rooster. A cat is a luxury. I glanced from the Sheriff, who sat on the other side of the fire to Spencer next to me. The Sheriff remained preoccupied with a tiny hairless kitten who preferred to stay tucked away inside of his jacket.

Spencer scratched his head. We waited, but the Sheriff didn't respond any further.

"Fuck that; a cat is good eating." Daryl stepped out of the darkness of the woods. His sudden appearance lit by the campfire could have caused his sudden demise. The Sheriff had his gun already drawn before Spencer, and I could register an intruder was in our mist. Daryl's golden fingertips illuminated in the night and even brighter with the help of our camp fire's light.

Unexpectedly, there was a simple click of a gun aimed by the Sheriff in his direction, slowed Daryl to a halt. Daryl was smart to have waited for the Sheriff to withdraw his weapon before proceeding to come and sit closest to us two deputies.

"You always quick to draw?"

"I've killed all I needed today, what is one more?"

"You have no idea how your bodies keep me busy on the right side of the wall."

"You have no idea how that yellow stain on your fingers saved your life."

"Only protection I got."

"How about you tell us what you are doing on this side, Daryl?" I had asked the question that we men who were held responsible for laws would generally want to know.

"I found my wife."

"You found Sasha?"

"Rosita, too."

"Where?"

"Ten miles out past the main birthing camp."

"The Badlands?"

"I'm going to need help to get her back. I can't do it all myself—too many of them. I barely made it out. I only came back because Sasha insisted the odds would be best if I have more than just me. Told Sasha, I don't give a shit about Rosita, but she gives a shit about Rosita. If I can't get anyone to help, I'm just going to go back alone."

We didn't offer any assistance for the Badlands. That far away? No was my answer by remaining silent. Spencer kept his head down.

Daryl continued, "I rather die trying than begging. I told my wife Sasha that. I'm telling you all that."

"If anyone can, it would be him." Spencer touted what we weren't sure our Sheriff would offer, and he didn't. He remained quiet too.

"I believe it." Daryl's eyes remained steadfast on our Sheriff.

"The law does not extend outside the gates."

"Then what you doing outside here for, and you being the law?"

"Out here, I'm uprighting wrongs. I suggest you do the same. Fight your own damn battle."

"Is that what you call it with these two with you?" Daryl challenged.

"Every man needs a witness."

"I wonder how things will play out when the Governor's crew arrives at the station. Traveling up from the south. About a day,"

"Governor in the Badlands?"

"Andrea. Representing the Governor. She pretended like she didn't know who the fuck I was, but that's alright. When she makes it to Baptist town, one look, shit will hit the fan, especially Negan bitching in the right ear about his men gone missing. They appoint who they want as Sheriff and the Governor will replace your ass faster than an unsure woman bound to change her mind."

"You think I'm worried?"

"I guess, not. Outside of killing folks, I would never believe you would have no other reason to be out here. I guess you do need witnesses. Because I, for one, wouldn't believe it. Not even coming from them." Daryl had tipped his head towards Spencer and me.

"Come again?" Our Sheriff asked for clarification.

Daryl continued to spout, "My two eyes have seen it all. A damn spaghetti maker mounted on the back of your horse. A gotdamn diseased cat in your shirt pocket to give to who the fuck knows would want it."

I had nudged Spence not to speak. Not to say a single word that could antagonize the situation regardless if he was bringing an educational public service announcement. The cat wasn't a diseased animal but a healthy pure as they come hairless sphynx—all according to Spencer.

By the time we were back in town, word had spread like wildfire that Shelly had got her pasta maker. The Sheriff had secretly, so he thought, gifted Michonne with the kitten.


	39. Book Of Morgan Continued

_"So what can we really do for each other except-just love each other and be each other's witness? And haven't we got the right to hope-for more? So that we can really stretch into whoever we really are?" _  
**― James Baldwin, ****Another Country**

* * *

By the time we were back in town, word had spread like wildfire that Shelly had got her pasta maker. The Sheriff had secretly, so he thought, gifted Michonne with the kitten.

Neither the Sheriff nor Michonne was aware they were going to have witnesses behind the church. Their voices could easily be overheard as they discussed Michonne's first kill. I happened to have time to rummage inside of the Church storage shed in the company of Carol and Eugene, at the behest of Pastor Gabriel, when it all took place.

"I asked a simple question."

"I fail to understand the importance of telling you who I got the information from or why it is important, Michonne."

"Out of all things to bring back. You bring me a real-life kitten?"

"Would you have preferred a cat?"

"Statue, yes. Sculpture, yes. Painting, yes. Never a breathing animal."

"Fuck."

"Outside the church? I have no idea why I allow myself your company."

"I'm frustrated."

"Then say it. That word does not mean it."

"It can cause it, especially if you haven't had any in a very long time. Wait, I'm sorry, Michonne, you wouldn't know anything about that since, according to you, and practically everyone who dares to speak on it, you are a virgin."

"Why are you talking about me to everyone?"

"I haven't been talking about you to everyone. It is simply something that is understood by everyone that you and a few others around here that are of age are virgins. I will admit it goes in one ear and out the other. I only happen to hang on to every word if anyone has something to say about you. I'm really curious, and only interested in you."

"As long as my goodness hasn't been spoken of as evil."

"Noone has ever had a bad word to say about you, Michonne. I'm just sorry I got it all wrong."

"Extremely wrong, Rick."

"I was told that the man you were to marry tried to bring back a cat. He got bitten by a walker in trying to do so. The man you were supposed to marry was your first kill."

"What are you doing, Rick?"

"You are crying. I'm making things worse than better. Since I got it all wrong, you can give me back the cat. I'm sure I can find a nice home for it."

"Is it for me or not?"

"Only if you want it, Michonne. I didn't know what you had him go out for wasn't suppose to be a real one. For me, everything is literal, and I suppose it makes things more obvious about my intentions in getting to know you more than what is probably appropriate. I can't help myself. I try to stay away. I try not to engage you with or without other people around. I try to keep the right amount of distance, the briefest amount of eye contact to only find myself wanting you and only you. I never wanted a woman as much as I want you, Michonne. My want for you hurts to the point there may come a time I may not be able to stop myself from making you mine. I want to be your husband, Michonne. I want that badly."

"What point in time can that be, Rick? You have a whole wife. A wife that..."

"Stop me, Michonne. Stop me. Tell me you don't want me, you don't want this, please tell me to stop..."

"Touch me...Oh, please touch me. Touch me, touch me everywhere, please..."

"I'm so in love with you, woman. I, I, I love you..."

"Love me. Yes, love me!"

Carol mouthed the words we all felt. Oh, my God!

Eugene made a loud enough sound to cause Michonne and the Sheriff to stop what they were doing on the side of the storage shed. A couple of beats later, the Sheriff swung open the door to find us trying to remember the reason for being in the shed in the first place.


	40. Eugene's Fantastical Story

"All great literature is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town."  
― Leo Tolstoy

* * *

"Leave me alone, you little Cocksucker!" Eugene was irritated. He needed time to be alone, and the woods were the best place he could find the solace he needed to think his thoughts through without distraction. He had to come up with a plan.

"Whoa. So, it is all an act." Carl laughed heartily. "You are really good playing the role of mentally challenged."

Eugene didn't wait until the slow clap ceased when he shouted again, "Fuck off!"

"Fuck off?"

"Scram, kid."

"What would the Sunday school teacher think if she knew this was all an act?"

"What makes you think she doesn't know?" Eugene challenged back the baseless threat. "You have been in this community for less than three months."

Carl shrugged at the point Eugene made. It wasn't relevant to what he wanted to know about the fantastical story Eugene began to tell everyone in Sunday School class. At the same time, Michonne was perpetually distracted by his Dad, who hadn't been in attendance for weeks but had time enough to seek her out instead of God.

"How do you know my Dad?" Carl's curiosity was piqued.

"I know everything." It was a burden Eugene carried and with no apparent need to hide it from others because there was an element of disbelief that kept him cloaked by most of the adults. At random, Eugene would speak about his abilities that he harnessed from extensive reading and learning to a captive audience of church youth. He hoped that one day his story would be passed along to future generations as were individual books in the bible.

"How?"

"I am the voice in the mirror. I am the random surge of energy that reaches and stretches across the globe. I am the difference between being in total darkness. Hence, solar panels. I have the know-how to spread disease and famine. I can cure the incurable. What I can't handle is an asshole kid who is determined to undermine what isn't meant for him due to having the wrong birth mother. Not your father's fault, of course. He was young. He thought he knew it all. Took one look at your mother and thought he had to be the one to rescue the poor damsel stolen away to some birthing camp. Wouldn't listen to his father. Your Dad had his rings removed in defiance to his father's wishes that he remain intact. He was meant, designed, cursed, blessed, betrothed to marry someone he hadn't met until now. Your father chose to defy his father as you continually choose not to obey him. A path paved straight to hell. The Badlands."

"The Badlands?"

"I told your grandfather to allow them to meet. If he had, I believe there would never have been you as you know yourself right now to be. Your mother has caused you to have a weak link to greatness. Greatness will elude you. Your future siblings will have a firm foothold."

"Future siblings? The kid, my mom, has inside of her isn't my Dad's."

"Your father will take his rightful wife once he figures out what to do with the old wife."

"New wife?"

"The one he was to marry he will marry. They shared the same rings. He will see and understand why his father wanted him to wait. It will be on his fingertips-."

"Carl?"

Eugene was relieved that Carl had stopped following him, distracted by the female voice summoning him. If ever Eugene was grateful to anyone, it was to Enid.

Enid caught up to Carl, who had turned to stop for her to catch up. "What are you doing out here? This far?" Enid asked.

"Talking to Eugene," Carl turned to where the Sunday School Assistant no longer stood. Where once a clear path ahead became unpassable with the number of thorny vines protruding the surrounding area forward.


	41. Shane Comes To Supper

_"The most important things to remember about back story are that (a) everyone has a history and (b) most of it isn't very interesting." _  
**― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft**

* * *

"Shane!"

I was prepared to greet my husband with silence. I wasn't ready to see someone I hadn't laid eyes on in a long time. I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice after noticing who was coming into our house. He was following behind Rick, all bloodied and bruised. Luckily, I had just finished preparing supper.

"Hey, Lori," Shane mumbled.

"Shane." My enthusiasm tapered.

I was hesitant to move forward, unsure whether to embrace Shane. Rick was standing between us, and just one look from my husband was answer enough to avoid any physical contact. Shane had even gone as far as to stand farthest away, maintaining his allegiance to Rick. What I was able to ascertain from one fleeting glance from Shane, anything less than the truth, held a deadly consequence for both of us.

"You can stay here for a while. I will talk to a few people and see if we can get you set up with a place nearby." My husband offered.

"I may have something already. Already offered to me. Kind of prefer it."

"Yeah?" Rick was curious as was I.

"That Inn at the Honky Tonk. I met up with Tyrese before finding you on the church step talking to-I can sense Tyrese is a damn good guy. Good people."

Rick blushed as he nodded. I was stuck wanting to know who and why my husband was on the church steps at some point and if it had anything to with ending our marriage unceremoniously as possible.

"Well, you are welcome to take the sofa tonight." My hospitality was quickly met with a look from my husband before he returned his attention to Shane, who did not readily accept nor decline.

Rick continued, "The offer stands if you want to stay the night. In the morning, I want to offer you a position of deputy."

"Deputy?"

"Together, we can run this town. Keep the community safe."

There was no hesitation in Shane's response, "I would like that."

"Okay, you two, go on and wash your hands. Supper's ready. Restroom over there." I directed them both before allowing them around the kitchen table. I began to place a bowl in front of each man who continued to talk while I supplied a heaping amount from the ladle with an offering of sweet cornbread. I became painfully unsure of myself when I caught Shane's attention darted directly at my belly, awkwardly he refocused back to tasting his food and listening to Rick. It made me painfully unsure of myself.

"So, what's the plan?" Shane had asked after swallowing a spoonful of chili.

"I've been meeting up with some of the men who can shoot. They've taken up arms and prepared to shoot to kill if danger lands at their doorstep. More than I care to mention is leaning on prayer and God's protection. I plan to only help those who can and will help themselves. I have Pastor Gabriel to corral the foolish who stand to get us all killed. I had a hell of a time trying to convince him there's no way to load bullets in a bible. Says he understands it, but I'm not privy to what he has worked out with God."


	42. Here Kitty Kitty!

"Kisses, not hisses."  
**― Steven Magee**

* * *

"Here kitty kitty. Kitty kitty. Here..."

Meow

I was ill-prepared for cat ownership, and it was apparent on my first night alone with my new noisy feline. It was after midnight. I had my window open for the surprisingly cool breeze, causing an enticement for my cat to leap and take a seat on the windowsill.

Purr. Purr. Purr.

I could clearly see the Sheriff standing in his window. Moreso, his silhouette standing there in between the parted curtains. My heart still raced from just minutes ago being in his embrace. His words solemn, breathless, and firm.

My hips had a mind of its own. I needed more pressure, more of his touch to continue between my legs. I whined and whimpered out of control to know more of, to experience, again and again, the glorious sensation that coursed through my body with unparalleled intensity.

"I want you, but I want more than anything to do right by you. And not be just any guy or that guy. I don't want to be any man. I want to be yours. Your husband. I won't have it any other way, Michonne. I want to make love to you as my wife, and I, your husband."

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

"I have to make it right and make it known about my intentions outside this house and the home across the street. By noontime tomorrow, I'm going to seek out Pastor Gabriel. My only intention is to have a clean slate. I can't do that without ending my marriage to Lori."

"The only way to dissolve a marriage is to find a husband for Lori."

"Shane's in town."

"Shane?"

"He is in love with my wife. He has always been."


	43. Are You Trying To Give Me Your Cat?

"You can always tell what the pussy will be like, when you kiss the lips."  
**― Robert Black**

* * *

Michonne had taken off with the cat I had given her after what had happened out by the church shed earlier. More than likely, she was embarrassed by the idea that we had a witness or witnesses with first-hand knowledge. I had gone by later to check up on her, but she wasn't home. I was kind of relieved because I was wired, more determined to make ago with Michonne. The likelihood of stripping her naked and having my way with Michonne filled my thoughts. She kissed the hell out of me earlier. I was blinded by my urges, which halted abruptly with only a vague sensation of its existence.

"That cat wants to be your cat." Michonne charged.

"My cat? Now, it is my cat? Is that why you allowed it out of your house?"

"How was I to know that it would dart out the door? I can't believe we are having a conversation about my cat at this ungodly hour. It is after one in the morning!"

"Well, I would like to know do you always open your door dressed in just your robe, if this is such an ungodly hour?" I questioned her to get a full picture. It was practically apparent that she was nude under her robe based on the material alone. For some reason, I needed to know if what she had done was accidental or intentional. Her response would reveal how much of her virgin act she pretended, and embodied.

"Are you going to give me back the cat or not?"

"I gave the cat to you earlier today."

"I know what you did earlier. Everyone knows what you have done earlier today. I am asking right now, are you going to give me back my cat?"

"Why doesn't this cat have a name by now? How do you expect to bond if you haven't even named it."

"I have named it. Cat. Cat with a K. Kat. Kit Kat. Happy now?" Michonne grabbed the cat from my arms. I was relieved to see the cat nuzzle up against Michonne before jumping down to take off running farther inside of her home to a food bowl off in the distance.

"Kit Kat?"

"Yes. Now, thank you and goodbye, Sheriff."

"Sunday School Teacher, I am not only here because of civic duty. I am here because I came by a few hours ago, and you weren't here."

"No, I wasn't. Why?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I wasn't going to rest until I found out who told you about the Cat."

"Why does it matter?"

"It matter's, Rick."

"Why?"

"You proved to Mabel and Herschel the length you would go for me. They were testing, and I guess you passed the muster even though it wasn't supposed to be a living breathing animal."

"Why are you so angry?"

"Because I am failing God every single time."

"I like to think that God isn't looking for straight As in this shitty world. Just acknowledgment. So lighten up, there's a lot of us skipping class altogether, or just happy with Cs or Ds."

I guess what I said had caught her off guard. She began to slowly smile before she stifled a few soft-sounding chuckles. I couldn't help but beam in knowing the mood had lightened between us. We stood there. At her front door.

"Do you want me to come in, Michonne?"

She shyly shook her head, eyes diverted before she gazed back into mine.

"May I kiss you, Goodnight?"

"Step in."

Her suggestion was for us to not be seen. My hands instantly went to her waist. Her hands went to my face, where she made her inspection of what a few hours had done after a brawl with a long time friend who had re-entered my life. She touched my jaw gingerly.

"What happened?"

"Had a little fight."

"A little fight?"

"Better than having to kill him in the middle of town. So, yeah, a little fight."

"About?"

"A lot of things. And eventually about nothing that matters to me now. The only thing that matters is this, right here, right now."

Her lips were on mine. We kissed. I kicked the door closed and had her pressed up against the nearest wall. The sash to her robe loosened, opened. I slipped my hands to caress the bareness of her back. She was as I had dared to assume naked as I cupped and palmed her ass.

"Take me."

"Damn it," I swore. There was going to be nothing to stop me with my one hand holding her leg up, and the other finding what I now know was bars. I halted. More so, the sensation it caused on my fingertips. "You are a virgin."

She really was a virgin.


	44. Shane Loves Lori

"Remember that it is quicker to destroy than build, so be careful of what you do even with your own tongue."  
**― Gift Gugu Mona**

* * *

I could smell breakfast. I didn't dare present myself in the kitchen before Rick. I only exited my room when I had received a knock, and hearing his voice on the other side was my cue. We were going to get our day started. We sat at the table being served by Lori. She shuffled from the stove to the table with each of our plates and some strong piping hot coffee.

"Morning." It was the only safe thing to say directed to the one who provided morning sustenance. Rick only nodded. I made a note to do that, if, a next time arose. Nod.

I noticed Rick was preoccupied with his left hand, more so his fingertips. They were yellowish, more bright, I guess golden? I wondered what had happened from just last night until now to have caused the discoloration.

"What's happened to your hand?" My visual inspection and Rick's response caused Lori to flash a look at what was seemingly new and intriguing to the man who seemed utterly perplexed by what was happening.

"Hm?" Rick responded with no answer. I had noticed that Lori was trying to not to become emotional.

A sleepy Carl entered the kitchen with an answer, "Probably from touching that damn pussy. Cat. Right, Dad?" Carl pulled a chair to ensure he was sitting across from his mother at the round kitchen table. He had a much clear view of Lori than I. I had to pretend to not notice the tension building and Carl's ability to stoke fires. Rick remained silent. A visual change in his skin was the only indication he was bothered.

"A cat?" Lori posed the question to Carl as if he was an authority on what transpired and not the man himself.

"Yeah, the one he carried across the street. He carried it back over to the Sunday School Teacher. Luckily he did, I was about to shoot it."

"Not if I shot it first!" Tara laughed as she too came with a high five that I made it back to the family safe. Tara was the only one who felt free enough to be happy that I was there. But for Lori and Carl, it was a heavy dark cloud if we weren't all mindful and resumed our carefully orchestrated roles.

With my face no longer, bloodied, but visibly bruised, should have been every indication that the worst scenario no longer existed between the father, husband, and me. If they had known what it took to take the fire out of Rick, I wonder how they would feel knowing the truth was out. It was accepted by Rick. We were moving forward.

I had said it from my chest. I spoke where it could only be heard by him because that motherfucker was ready to pummel my tired ass to the death. We were both panting, practically out of breath. Fighting in the town center with onlookers.

"That damn baby isn't mine...Do you hear me? Do you fucking understand? Yes. I love her, but I would never fuck her. I would never do that to you. You told me to keep her safe. I did the best I could. Things got crazy. I had no fucking clue why Lori would let them take Carl. I didn't understand her end game. She went back to the camp, I went for Carl only later to find out Carl was in prison with you. It is the truth. If you want to kill me over it. Use your gun. Put me out of my fucking misery."

It didn't take long before he realized I was better off alive than dead. I was damn good with a gun and could withstand an ass-kicking. Can't fathom how he managed to survive as long as he had with the crew he had put a bit of trust in. Morgan with a stick. Spencer with not much wit, and Abe who didn't like being relegated to watch over or babysit just in case things got out of hand at the station.

Inside the station, I was sworn in and given a gun. No sooner than I was made deputy, I had to aim that gun at the head of a blonde female who had her pistol aimed at the Sheriff upon her arrival. Morgan had grabbed his stick and Spencer, stood worthless over in the corner. Neither had a gun. Abe hung the keys on the hook for the only openly visible jail cell.

The click of my gun was enough to get my point across. "Now put the gun down nice and slow. Right in my hands would be ideal. Now, tell us who the fuck are you?" I had asked, knowing I had surprised our visitor who strolled into the station without an introduction. She complied without incident.

"My name is Andrea Mitchell. I work for the Governor."

"Is this how you come into a station with your gun out?"

"What in the fuck have you done with our Sheriff?" Andrea demanded.

Rick turned slowly from the weaponry closet, assured that I was prepared to blow the brains out of our visitor. He responded calmly and as of a matter of fact. "I am in uniform. I am the Sheriff."

"You are not. You are not _our_ Sheriff," Andrea challenged. "You are not who the council elected."

"How can you be so sure?" Abe wanted to know. I figured then he was the only one inside who didn't suspect an infiltration.

"Because I am fucking married to him. My husband. What have you done with my husband?"

"What do you want me to do with her?" I had asked Rick for guidance on the role of deputy. I needed to know how much going to be by the book or improvised.

"I have agents outside. If you so much as touch me they will be..."

No sooner she spoke, Carl steps inside of the station with a gun in each hand prodded in the back of two Governor Agents.

"Here you go, Dad. What do you want me to do with them? Do you want me to take em out back and put a bullet in their heads?"


	45. Spencer Has Some Parables

_"I pass with relief from the tossing sea of Cause and Theory to the firm ground of Result and Fact."_  
**― Winston Churchill, The Story of the Malakand Field Force**

* * *

Everything happened rather quickly. We were ambushed from all sides. Plenty of good people died that day. Families were torn apart. Children were sniffed out and taken. A few of the of age virgins were snatched shipped in a different direction. All by horse wagon on the path that led outside of the gates to either build or reproduce.

We were all devastated. I was the one chosen to stay back to protect what was left of out Baptist Town. Our Sheriff considered me the right person for the job. He spoke on it at the church. No one cared that his words were blasphemous, not even Pastor Gabriel, who hadn't slept since the onslaught had ended. The children were taken from a hidden space down in the Sunday School classroom. Pastor Gabriel appeared to everyone mournful about it.

Our Sheriff was standing near the pulpit with all of us deputies behind him. Daryl was upfront with us as the Sheriff spoke to the few citizens who attended and were known to pass the message along to those who were not present.

"...this place we are in can't protect you. That book you hold in high regard, can't protect you. Only you can protect you. Only you. If you have any chance of survival, you will have to pick up a gun and shoot. Spencer will be the one here to sign them out and enough bullets to buy you some time to kill or aim the barrel to your own head. I...my newest deputy Shane, Deputy Morgan, Deputy Abe, and Daryl are going out to bring back as many as we can find and as many as we can locate. If they are along our path, we will bring them home. We will do our best."

"Sheriff, you think you have enough men. I can lend you two of my own sons. Mabel here has one who is willing and another if it will help. She told me to make sure I told you that."

"They will better serve a place assisting Spencer, whenever, wherever needed. Have them report first thing in the morning. We still have the threat of Negan and his men. You have been one to hold on to your land, unlike the others. You have a competent family of gunfighters. You are needed here. I would be more honored if you allowed your sons to hold up camp around your property, and you be the one to come out and assist if you can."

Herschel nodded his acceptance. He was invested in the outcome because the Sheriff had promised to find Maggie and Beth.

"I will find Maggie and Beth. I will." Our Sheriff pledged.

"I would be forever indebted to you when you do," Herschel responded. He didn't remain for the rest of the meeting. Instead, Herschel turned to leave without a customary handshake nor nod towards our downtrodden Pastor standing alone by the exit. I swore to the Sheriff to not reveal all that I knew about the events that took place inside of the church.

I was the only one who knew that it took the Sheriff and his gun pointed at the Pastor's head to discover that he deliberately traded Maggie and Beth to save his church. Pastor Gabriel had got more than he bargained for when the scouts took all of the children, including the virgins. The Sheriff needed a witness to know why he blew out the brains of someone who could not be trusted or verify the presence of God when he was done pistol-whipping Pastor Gabriel.

"How did you know, Sheriff? How did you know Pastor Gabriel wasn't telling you everything. How did you know not to take him at face value?" I had asked him after the meeting.

"Believe it or not Spencer, Pastor Gabriel is a man. When a man diverts his eyes, in my experience, it's one of two reasons, he is either hiding the truth or reaching for his weapon."

I had watched five men ride off on horseback that night.

I was relieved to have been left behind.

* * *

A/N: I hope everyone is staying safe! I am still writing. Still tossing this out to what is left of our fandom. Michonne and Rick still live in my head and I realized this story can go on and on and on. LOL.


	46. Eugene Offers To Eat Her Cat

"It was masturbation, not willpower, that made it possible for gazillions of women to walk down the aisle with their reputation and their hymen still intact."  
**― Mokokoma Mokhonoana, On Masturbation: A Satirical Essay**

* * *

"Hey, Michonne."

"Hey."

"I'm here. I'm here to get you." The Sheriff began to cry.

"I will walk into a herd before I-."

I had turned off the transmission. I was no longer sending signals on the other side. And because of my executive decision, I was now being pressured with a gun to my head to physically attend to Michonne. The loaded pistol pressed against my head was an incentive even though it was not needed since I am a master of espionage and intrigue _if_ I were to say so myself. The idea that he was prepared to blow my brains out and go on a shooting spree up all eight floors hurried my dress in disguise before he went on a suicide mission.

We needed this Sheriff to get us all back to our Baptist Town safe, and if anyone could, it would be him. His love of brute force when cornered was unparalleled to anyone I have ever encountered. This newcomer to the group, Shane, was now a close second. For me, it was an interesting display to see how Shane took his cues only when accompanied by the Sheriff. Everyone else knew how to take their order, and to stay out of the way when chaos naturally came to wear us down.

I was ready to reprise my role in the Kingdom as a loyal attendant. Servant to the guests of the King. From the Honkey Tonk, this was where we had eventually found Michonne hidden away on the tenth floor. Apartment 201 hung on the door with a Tiger seal. A guard moved aside as was his training to recognize a man like me in a robe with gold trimmings. A level of privilege allotted to a priest based on the adornment of my clergy collar.

I was able to spend a short amount of time with her. She was glad to see me as I was her. Again, it was a short amount of time, but enough to relay what she needed to know. Unfortunately, I had to wait until food was no longer the focus. When it wasn't, I had Michonne's full attention. I had to let her know what to expect from what I have garnered from my extensive reading.

"What?! I want out of here. I need my sword. A gun, even. I want out of here. I will make King Ezekiel kill me before I allow him access to my body!"

I hesitated in my answer, waiting for her to calm. I began with reason. Then choice. I anticipated her apprehension with both. I wondered how much she knew about her body. From her reaction, it didn't seem she was aware that no man would be able to get around those bars in a missionary sense. At least not any man and certainly not a false King. There was no such thing as removal of any kind, even though the bars could act as a glass sliding door in a very specific situation. This is what made Michonne different from most any other virgin.

"There are superior sniffers outside that door, outside this Rapunzel tower, and scattered randomly throughout the streets of the market place that leads us out of the Kingdom. We would have a hell of a time trying to escape with you intact."

"I don't smell!"

"To them, you do! Not bad in any way if it helps you to understand that when I say superior, I mean they will smell your sweet untouched flower out of all the sweat, sewage, dirty tampons, and fire powered farts. Bloodhounds in human form. Pussy Hounds, to be exact. Everyone is looking for a way out of a bleak situation, and you're a walking lottery ticket. Cashable. Fuckable. But little do they know Cashable yes, fuckable to only one. Kinda like Cinderella and the glass slipper, not just any foot. Well, not just any man."

"I am not made for just any man!" Michonne agreed with me though severely short-sighted.

"No, you are not." I acquiesced.

"A husband!" She stood firm in her protest.

"Right now, he is someone else's." I had to remind her.

"Eugene! I am not after anyone's husband! Take it back!"

"Unfortunately, someone's husband is the answer in this dreadful equation." The whole thought had me momentarily depressed.

"I hate you!"

"Hate me later. There's less time right now, consider what I have to tell you. You'll need to tell me what you are willing to do for your freedom. What will you allow in order to escape?"

"I would rather walk into a herd than to have children by someone I don't love."

"What if there was another option?"

"There's no option if I am stuck here."

"You are not stuck."

"You'd just said if I were to leave, I would be caught."

"Not unless we have those bars moved."

"Removed?"

"No. You and I both know they cannot just be removed but they can move."

"Who told you that?"

"I am a man with time to educate myself on all things random. Insignificant to most but soon to be valuable to many."

"My private area is none of your concern."

"A very delicate situation. Very personal. Private. I would like to think if you want to consider me for the job, I would do it with honor, Michonne. And I am not saying it because I think you are absolutely beautiful with your hair like that. I would do you. Just not now. I have to let everyone know you have chosen me for the job."

"Exactly what job, Eugene?"

"There's a little unknown text, a belief that your bars can move. Kinda like prison doors until the right key comes along and unlocks it permanently. I would take a calculated guess that not just any man has the key. I mean, there is one, but he ain't going to be able to without a great amount of risk."

"What are you talking about, Eugene? For the love of all things, Holy! Speak plain!"

"I'm talking about Cunninglus."

"My God!"

"It is those bars. Your diamond-encrusted gold bars create a delicate fragrance unique to you and what you represent. There's a bounty out there for just about anything, but you are one in a million. Those sniffers are everywhere. Here. There. We won't make it very far with you intact. But we can get you on the road with us back to Baptist Town if we can keep the bars moved inward. About two days. After that, I will have to do it again. As I said, I'm willing. Abe is willing. Daryl believes Sasha would kill him. Shane would need the Sheriff's permission. Aaron is not interested due to his continual struggle with his proclivities despite what is in the good book. He just wouldn't be able to stomach it. Morgan said his wife would be disappointed in him but would understand if he did help. Tyrese walked away, shaking his head while I was talking to him, trying to lay the groundwork to help him understand the importance. Well, the Sheriff came along and wanted to know what was going on. Tyrese told him. The Sheriff looked to everyone that was there, who nodded. The Sheriff stepped to me and knocked me out."

* * *

A/N: I am very happy to know I still have some readers and as time goes on, maybe a couple of new ones! Yay! Don't worry this story, like all of my stories, will eventually fill in the gaping holes. Don't worry.


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